Brooklyn Visions Academy Dorm Room
The dorm room was a typical school dorm setup—messy but comfortable, filled with textbooks, posters, and a few scattered snacks. Ganka Lee was sprawled on his bed, intensely focused on his video game, the glow of the screen illuminating his face. The room echoed with the sounds of virtual explosions and Ganka's sporadic shouts of excitement.
As the door swung open, Miles Morales swung in, his Spider-Man suit partially visible beneath his casual clothes. He landed lightly on the floor, letting out a casual, "Yo, what's up, man?"
Ganka glanced up, barely pausing his game. "Yow, I'm writing an essay.. but for now just playing" he replied with a distracted wave.
Miles hurriedly began to change, pulling off his Spider-Man suit and slipping into his uniform clothes. "There's a bad guy at the Petersen building," he said, focusing on his task. "Call the police and tell them to pick him up?"
Ganka sighed and paused his game, rolling his eyes. "Sounds like a slippery slope."
Miles, still shuffling through his clothes and picking up his school bag, urged, "Just this one time."
Ganka shook his head, mumbling, "It starts with one call, then it's walkie-talkies, synchronized watches."
Miles, pulling a hoodie over his head, shot back, "In a month, it'll be a Spider-Signal. I'm not your 'guy in the chair.'"
As Miles finished gathering his belongings, he noticed Ganka's feet. "Are those my Jordans?" Miles asked, raising an eyebrow as he spotted his own signature sneakers on Ganka's feet.
Ganka looked down at his shoes, then back at Miles with a nonchalant shrug. "I can't help it if we're the same size."
Without a word, Miles used his web-shooters to snatch the Jordans from Ganka's feet, retracting them towards him with a swift, fluid motion.
"Great, so-called friends!!" Ganka called out as he watched Miles swoosh away, his expression a mix of frustration and amusement.
But Miles was already out the door, leaving Ganka shaking his head and chuckling to himself. "Yeah, yeah," Ganka muttered, returning his attention to the game.
....
Miguel O'Hara's Control Room
The control room was full of digital monitors and holographic displays, casting an eerie blue glow on Miguel O'Hara's face. The room was cluttered with advanced technology and data streams, each one showing different dimensions and timelines. Miguel's eyes were locked on the screen displaying the chaotic fight between Miles Morales and Spot.
Miguel's expression was a mix of concern and determination as he watched the live footage. His mind raced with the implications of what he was seeing. The universe's stability hung in the balance, and he couldn't afford any more disruptions.
Miguel murmured to himself, "This is not good."
He quickly turned to his advanced wrist-mounted AI assistant, Lyla. "Lyla, is the universe Earth-1610's canon event stable?"
Lyla's voice, calm and slightly amused, responded, "Wait… um, okay, so the Earth-1610—"
Miguel interrupted, his tone urgent, "What is it?"
Lyla, with a hint of mischief, replied, "Nah, it's fine. I'm just messing with you. I mean, look at your face. You look like you've seen a ghost or something. Ahahaha."
Miguel's frustration was evident. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You… (sighed)."
Lyla's tone softened as she sensed Miguel's distress. "Okay, okay. Earth-1610 is stable for now. There's no immediate threat to the canon event. But keep an eye on it. You know how volatile these situations can get."
Miguel's eyes stayed glued to the screen, where he observed the ongoing clash between Miles Morales and Spot. Miles moved with a combination of skill and quick reflexes, skillfully navigating the chaotic scene. Spot's unpredictable powers caused strange black holes to appear, warping the area around him. Though the fight had its funny moments, Miguel knew the gravity of the circumstances.
Miguel murmured, his voice laden with resolve, "I can't let another universe die again."
He knew firsthand the consequences of disrupting the natural order. The loss of another universe and the pain of losing his daughter were still fresh in his mind. He couldn't bear to see another dimension face the same fate.
Miguel tapped into the control panel, setting parameters to monitor any fluctuations or anomalies in the universe's stability. His hands moved swiftly over the holographic interface, his focus unwavering.
As he watched, Miguel considered his next steps. He needed to ensure that no further disruptions occurred and that Miles Morales, despite his youthful inexperience, could handle the situation without jeopardizing the balance of the multiverse.
With a final glance at the chaotic scene on the screen, Miguel spoke with determination. "Lyla, keep me updated on any changes. I need to make sure this universe remains stable and also make sure to inform Gwen"
Lyla's voice responded with a reassuring tone, "Got it. I'll keep an eye on things. Inform Gwen.... And remember, if you need anything, I'm here to help."
Miguel nodded, his gaze returning to the screen. He was ready to take action if needed, but for now, he had to trust that Miles could handle the situation. The stakes were high, and Miguel was prepared to do whatever it took to protect the multiverse and ensure that no more universes would face the devastating collapse he had witnessed.
.....
Brooklyn Visions Academy – Ms. Weber's Office
The room was a typical school counselor's office, neatly organized but slightly cramped. Shelves lined the walls, filled with educational materials and reference books. A large wooden desk occupied the center, cluttered with papers, a laptop, and a few coffee cups. The walls were decorated with motivational posters and a large window let in the afternoon sunlight, casting a warm glow over the space.
Ms. Weber, the school counselor, sat behind her desk, flipping through a folder. She was a middle-aged woman with a kind but serious demeanor, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Across from her, Jefferson and Rio Morales were seated, looking anxious yet hopeful. The tension in the room was palpable as they awaited Miles' arrival.
Ms. Weber said to them, "You see, every person is a universe. And my job is to capture your person's universe on this piece of paper."
Jefferson, looking at the blank sheet on Ms. Weber's desk, asked, "That's blank."
Ms. Weber nodded. "Exactly. I have no idea who this kid is. I don't know if he knows. He's gotta decide if he's going to commit himself to his future."
Both Jefferson and Rio sighed deeply, clearly feeling the weight of their son's future.
Ms. Weber continued, "Or whatever he's doing instead of being here."
She glanced at them with a hint of frustration. "Can't have your cake and eat it too."
At that moment, the door swung open, and in walked Miles Morales, his usual casual attire replaced with his school uniform. He had a confident stride but a playful glint in his eye.
Miles said with a grin, "Unless you bake two cakes…"
The trio turned their heads towards the door, where Miles stood with a slightly mischievous expression. Jefferson and Rio looked at him with a mix of relief and mild annoyance.
Jefferson and Rio said in unison, "Miles?"
Ms. Weber raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the interruption. "Interest in comedy, huh?"
Miles, unfazed by Ms. Weber's tone, chuckled nervously. "Ahaha. How's this going? College!"
Jefferson and Rio stood up, a little flustered by Miles' casual demeanor. Jefferson cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation.
Jefferson said, "Now, son, what do we always say?"
Rio chimed in, "On time means five minutes early."
Miles waved them off, clearly in a hurry. "I know, I know, I know. I gotta get back to being a great student," he said as he plopped down into a chair next to his parents. "So can we make this quick?"
Ms. Weber, still flipping through the papers, said, "Okay. Miles's grades are pretty good."
Ms. Weber adjusted her glasses and continued, "Okay. Miles's grades are pretty good." She scanned the report card again and said, "A in AP Physics..."
At the mention of the excellent grade, Rio Morales, sitting next to Jefferson, shook Miles's shoulder with pride. "That's my little man."
Ms. Weber nodded, then continued, "...and AP Studio Art."
Jefferson chimed in, "He takes after his uncle."
Ms. Weber moved on, "A-minus in English."
Rio smiled with a sense of nervous chuckle, "She's a tough grader."
Ms. Weber continued, "And a B in Spanish."
At this, Rio's smile faltered, and she looked at Miles with an incredulous expression. "What?!"
Jefferson, trying to keep the mood light, said, "Whoo! Okay."
However, Rio was clearly upset and turned to Miles. "Miles! Are you trying to kill your mother?"
Miles, feeling the weight of his mother's gaze, tried to defuse the situation with a bit of humor. "Sorry, mama. Eso no es my fault."
Rio, confused and frustrated, responded, "Esto no es my fault? ¿Tú estás tomando la clase en Spanglish? (This isn't my fault? Are you taking the class in Spanglish?)"
Miles sighed and tried to explain, "Mom, I just missed a few classes."
Jefferson's curiosity got the better of him. "Oh, just a few classes. Well, what's 'a few'?"
Miles, looking somewhat embarrassed, replied, "I mean, you know, like… Five?"
Jefferson and Rio shouted in unison, "Five!!"
Ms. Weber, keeping her professional demeanor, said, "Actually, six."
Rio's face fell, and she looked at Miles with a mix of exasperation and concern. "You're dead."
Jefferson, attempting to mitigate the situation, remarked, "A truant."
Miles, feeling cornered, tried to justify himself, "Wait, wait, wait."
Jefferson, shaking his head, said, "Takes after his uncle."
Miles, trying to explain his situation, added, "But I just have a lot going on."
Ms. Weber, trying to steer the conversation back to a constructive note, said, "All right. We can still salvage this."
She flipped through some additional paperwork, pulling out a plan for academic improvement and support. "We'll need to come up with a plan to address these missed classes and ensure that Miles gets back on track."
Jefferson's brows knitted together in confusion. His chair creaked slightly as he shifted forward, clearly trying to understand the implication of Ms. Weber's words. "Wait, wait, salvage?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. His eyes searched Ms. Weber's face for clarification.
Ms. Weber, shifting the focus, said, "Alright. How about this? Miles has a great story to tell."
Miles, looking skeptical, said, "Having a story at all seems gross."
Ms. Weber continued, "Your name is Miles Morales."
Miles, puzzled, responded, "Uh, correct."
Ms. Weber, with a tone of determination, said, "You grew up in a struggling immigrant family."
Rio interjected, "I'm from Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico is part of America."
Miles nodded in agreement, while Jefferson added, "We own a floor in Brooklyn. Ah… Struggling? I don't know."
Ms. Weber, ignoring Jefferson's comment, said, "Doesn't matter. You're all struggling."
Jefferson, trying to stay optimistic, said, "I make captain next week."
Ms. Weber, still focused on her point, said, "Now his dream is to attend the top physics program in the nation…"
Rio, determined, said, "Whatever it takes, we'll do it."
Ms. Weber completed her sentence, "...at Princeton University."
Miles's face lit up with excitement.
Rio's concern returned as she asked, "In New Jersey?"
Ms. Weber nodded.
Rio, shaking her head, said, "No, no, no. That's too far."
Miles, trying to convince his mother, said, "New Jersey's too far from New York?"
Rio argued, "There's great schools in Brooklyn."
Miles, determined, responded, "Mom, Princeton has the best quantum researchers in the country."
Jefferson, attempting to understand, said, "Quantum. Mm-hm."
Miles elaborated, "They're moving electrons across dimensional thresholds."
Jefferson, still trying to follow along, said, "Electrons. Uh-huh."
Miles continued, "They're studying dark matter!"
Jefferson, genuinely confused, said, "I don't know what any of that means."
Miles, trying to emphasize the importance, said, "I could help figure out how to travel to other dimensions."
Rio, crossing her arms, said, "Yeah, okay."
Jefferson, humorously added, "That sounds like a really good fake job."
To be continue