Jefferson, visibly exhausted and covered in dust, rubs his temples. He looks around at the chaotic scene, taking in the scattered debris and the lingering traces of their battle. With a deep sigh, he turns to Miles, who is catching his breath and trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline.
"You know we're supposed to catch the bad guys, right?" Jefferson says, his tone a mix of frustration and concern.
Miles, still trying to process the chaotic fight and the revelations from Spot, looks back at Jefferson with a hint of a grin. "I always do. Usually." He shrugs, attempting to deflect the seriousness of the situation with his usual nonchalant attitude.
The aftermath of the fight leaves the area in disarray, with damaged cars, scattered debris, and a ruined building. The atmosphere is tense as the police arrive to manage the chaos. The night air is cool, and the scene is dimly lit by flickering streetlights and the red-blue glow of police sirens.
Jefferson, looking weary, surveys the damage around them. "Gutierrez! Get the crane, man." he calls out, trying to restore some order to the scene.
Officer Gutierrez responds promptly, "Yes, sir!" and begins coordinating efforts to clear the area.
As Jefferson walks through the destruction, he comments, "This here is why nobody likes us, man."
Miles, following closely behind, questions, "'Us'?"
Jefferson sighs, "I am trying to do right out here."
Miles, trying to connect, says, "I'm trying too."
Jefferson glances back at him, his frustration evident. "You need to be a better role model."
Miles, defensive, replies, "I'm a great role model." As he speaks, a car suddenly warps into their vicinity, crashing into the ground behind them, adding to the destruction.
Jefferson throws his hands up in exasperation. "Seriously, this?"
Miles, shrugging, admits, "Well, sometimes, I guess?"
Jefferson, shaking his head, calls out, "Hey, Gutierrez, you can cancel the crane." He walks away, seeking a moment of solitude to process his frustration. He heads toward a nearby bridge, kicking a warning triangle sign out of his path before resting his hands on the bridge railing, looking out at the chaotic scene below.
Miles approaches, sensing his father's frustration. "Do you wanna talk about it?" he asks, genuinely concerned.
Jefferson, surprised, snaps, "Are you crazy?!"
Miles, trying to diffuse the situation, says, "Well, men of your generation ignore their mental health too long."
Jefferson looks back at Miles, momentarily taken aback by the comment. He sighs deeply, the weight of the today's events and his role as a father and police officer pressing heavily on him. "I just... I need a minute," he mutters, turning back to the scene below.
The aftermath of the battle leaves the scene quiet, save for the occasional murmur of police radios and the distant sound of emergency vehicles. The sky is overcast, reflecting Jefferson's somber mood. They stand on the bridge, overlooking the scattered debris and damaged buildings, a stark reminder of the chaos that had just ensued.
Jefferson looks up at the sky, searching for answers. "Oh, boy. What am I even doing? 'Cause no matter what I do, someone always thinks I'm blowing it."
Miles, sensing an opportunity to connect, responds, "I know the feeling." He glances at Jefferson, then carefully broaches a topic close to his heart. "So your son. How's he doing? You think he's gonna figure it all out?"
Jefferson sighs, a mix of pride and concern in his voice. "Honestly? Yeah. He's a good kid."
Miles perks up, "Yeah?"
Jefferson nods, "It's scary. He says these things that are so smart."
Miles, feeling a pang of guilt and surprise, mumbles, "Cool. Well, I should probably..." He starts to move away but hesitates as Jefferson continues.
Jefferson's voice softens as he confides, "And then he does these things that are so stupid."
Miles winces internally, thinking, "Damn, am I stupid?"
Jefferson continues, more to himself than to Miles, "I just don't want him to mess it up."
Miles, attempting a more casual tone, suggests, "Maybe get off the kid's ass."
Jefferson turns, eyes narrowing slightly, "I'm sorry, what?"
Miles stammers, "What? What? I don't know."
Jefferson sighs deeply, his frustration giving way to vulnerability. "And I hate that he's not being honest with me."
Miles, feeling the weight of his own secrets, says quietly, "Maybe he's scared to talk to you."
Jefferson, caught off guard, raises his voice slightly, "Why would anyone be scared to talk to me?"
Miles shrugs, "I don't... I don't know."
Jefferson looks out over the city, his voice tinged with a melancholy that matches the sky. "It's just... You think you're getting pretty good at being a parent."
Miles listens quietly, sensing the depth of Jefferson's struggle.
Jefferson continues, "You think you got it licked. And then they go and grow up."
A silence falls between them, heavy with unspoken words and shared worries.
Jefferson, almost whispering, admits, "I just don't wanna lose him, you know?"
Miles, deeply moved, stands beside his father, the weight of his double life pressing down on him. The moment is bittersweet, a rare window into Jefferson's fears and hopes, and a reminder of the complexities of their relationship.
Miles, sensing the weight of the moment, clears his throat, "AHEM, Well, as an objective observer with no skin in the game," he begins, his tone light, trying to break the tension. He gestures expansively, looking at Jefferson. "I'd say you gotta let him spread his wings, man."
Miles then spreads his arms wide, playfully mimicking a bird in flight. "Like this.." he says, flapping his arms a bit, a half-smile playing on his lips.
Jefferson watches, a slight chuckle escaping him, the humor cutting through his somber mood. "Yeah," he says, still looking up at the cloudy sky, his expression a mix of doubt and resignation. "I don't know."
Miles, with a hint of earnestness, adds, "If this isn't nice, what is?" He looks at his father, his eyes searching for understanding, perhaps a silent plea for his father to trust in his journey.
Feeling the need to leave, Miles straightens up. "I should go." he says, a note of finality in his voice. He turns to walk away, his movements deliberate, as if preparing himself for the next step in his journey.
Jefferson, still processing the conversation, looks at Spider-Man with a mix of gratitude and confusion. "Yeah, and catch that holes guy." he says, referring to Spot, his voice tinged with a resigned sense of duty.
As Miles walks away, he glances back at Jefferson, a soft smile on his face. "Don't worry. I don't think that guy's gonna show his face again." he says reassuringly, though he knows the uncertainty of their world.
The two figures, father and son, stand on the bridge, separated by secrets but connected by a shared moment of vulnerability. As Miles swings away, disappearing into the skyline of Brooklyn, Jefferson remains, lost in thought, gazing at the spot where Spider-Man stood. The wind picks up slightly, carrying away the remnants of their conversation, leaving behind an air of contemplation and unresolved feelings.
............
Spot finds himself in a strange, liminal space filled with swirling black holes, each one a gateway to another dimension. The atmosphere is surreal, with the ground seemingly made of an ethereal, ever-shifting material. The air is silent, heavy with potential, and the ambient light pulses with a soft, otherworldly glow.
Spot, disoriented and intrigued, surveys the bizarre environment. "What? Okay," he mutters to himself, trying to make sense of his surroundings. As he moves, the fabric of space around him seems to ripple, adding to the otherworldly feel.
Spot recalls his recent blunder, touching his rear with a sheepish expression. "I think I kicked myself... into myself." The realization brings a bemused grin to his face.
Approaching one of the black holes, Spot muses aloud, "Well, this is new." He peers into its depths, his curiosity piqued. Spot calls out, "Hello? Hello? Echo, echo. No echo." his voice absorbed by the void.
Determined to explore, he announces, "Hypothesis: I'm going to put my head in that hole." As he leans in, his head passes through the portal, and he finds himself looking into a new world—a dimension reminiscent of 90s animation.
Spot's head appears in a bustling city street. A startled woman, dressed in vibrant, retro attire, spots him. "Hello..." Spot greets, trying to sound friendly.
The woman screams and hurls her purse at him, causing Spot to recoil in pain. "Ow! Please! Ow, ow, ow! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" He retreats back through the portal, clutching his head.
Spot re-emerges, rubbing his head. "That was cool. My holes can take me anywhere." he realizes, excitement building in his voice.
Spot then dives into another black hole, emerging in a world made entirely of Lego bricks. His head, now a massive blocky shape, looms over the tiny inhabitants. "Hi." he says, his voice echoing with a metallic timbre.
The Lego people scatter, screaming in panic at the sight of the giant head. Spot retreats again, laughing to himself. "This is awesome!!" he exclaims, exhilarated by the endless possibilities.
Next Portal: Earth 688
Spot peers into a mundane-looking convenience store. A woman stands behind the counter, unphased by the bizarre spectacle. Spot hesitates but then speaks, "Excuse me. Hi. Sorry to bug you. I know you're busy."
The woman, unimpressed, responds flatly, "What do you want?"
Spot, a bit taken aback by her nonchalance, says, "I know it's weird. I came out of nowhere."
"Okay," she replies, still unbothered.
Spot, trying to emphasize the gravity of his situation, says, "But I think I'm becoming a transdimensional super being."
Spot, excitedly popping his head out of a black hole, says with grandiosity, "So? I'm literally splitting the fabric of space and time."
The woman, dressed in a classic convenience store uniform and seemingly unimpressed, responds with a casual, "Okay."
Spot, slightly taken aback by her nonchalance, stammers, "Okay'? I'm literally bending the very essence of reality here!"
The woman looks up from her magazine, her expression deadpan, and says, "So?"
Spot, surprised by her indifference, adds, "For you, it's just a Tuesday night. You're acting like weird stuff like this happens to you all the time."
The woman, unfazed, simply replies, "Okay."
Spot, now feeling a bit deflated, tries to save face, "Well, it's still pretty impressive, right?"
The woman stares back with deadpan eyes.
Spot, realizing he's not going to get the reaction he hoped for, mutters, "Can I have some gum?" as he grabs a piece from the counter. he quickly retreats back through the portal.
Spot now stands amidst the ruins of Alchemax, teeming with a newfound sense of purpose. The air is thick with dust, and the ground is littered with debris from the recent battle. Workers, trying to clean up the aftermath, move cautiously around the area, casting wary glances at the eccentric figure.
Spot returns, now brimming with confidence. "What, I'm back?" he says, looking around. As he examines his hands, he feels a surge of power. "Oh! Whoa!" he exclaims, realizing his newfound potential.
Spot, energized by his recent revelations, exclaims to no one in particular, "The power of the multiverse in the palm of my hand!" He laughs maniacally, reveling in his perceived destiny.
Spot, his presence causing a stir among the workers. With a dramatic flair, he announces, "My holes aren't a curse! They're the answer!"
A worker, clearly uncomfortable they think Spot is a pervert, one of the worker mutters, "Can you stop talking about your holes? You're making everyone uncomfortable."
Spot, undeterred, continues enthusiastically, "No, no, no. You're gonna love this. Look, look, look." He gestures towards the ground, attempting to summon another portal, but nothing happens.
The workers exchange puzzled glances, whispering, "Weird." before resuming their tasks, largely ignoring Spot.
Spot, realizing his powers are momentarily exhausted, stammers, "Shit, I'm out of spots, wouldn't you know it. Uh..." He trails off, feeling slightly embarrassed but trying to maintain his composure.
Spot quickly regains his bravado, dismissing the awkward moment with a wave. "As you were, gentlemen," he says, forcing a chuckle that quickly fades into silence. His expression shifts to one of intense determination, and he raises his voice, "I'm coming for you, Spider-Man! Your arch-nemesis is coming!!"
The workers, unimpressed, continue their work, leaving Spot standing alone, shouting his challenge into the ruins.
..............
Meanwhile in a LEGO universe, where the characters and surroundings are made entirely of interlocking plastic bricks. The Daily Bugle building stands tall, with a LEGO version of the iconic "Spider-Man" sign on top. Inside, LEGO Peter Parker, with his classic nerdy suit, stands at his desk, looking at a brick-built computer screen.
LEGO Peter Parker, his face fixed in a worried expression, mutters to himself, "Shit, why is that thing here and then disappear?" He glances up at the building
Jonah Jameson, shaking his fist, bellows, "Tomorrow morning, Spider-Man, page one, with a decent picture!"
LEGO Peter responds with a nervous nod, "You're right, boss."
Jonah Jameson snaps back, "Shut up."
Peter, caught off guard, stammers, "Uh-huh."
Jonah Jameson, his face a mix of frustration and impatience, orders, "Get out of here!"
Peter, nodding rapidly, replies, "You got it, boss. I'm on it." He quickly turns and heads towards the restroom, marked by a simple LEGO door with a male figure icon.
Inside the restroom, Peter scans the empty stalls to ensure privacy. He then pulls up his wrist to reveal a LEGO watch, which doubles as a communicator. He quickly dials a number, connecting to another universe.
LEGO Peter speaks into the watch, "Miguel, it's Peter. We got an anomaly."
On the other end, Miguel O'Hara, the Spider-Man of 2099, responds in a serious tone, "Thank you, Peter. You're one of our best."
Before Peter can say anything more, Miguel abruptly hangs up, leaving Peter staring at the watch, the holographic interface fading away.
Peter, slightly exasperated, sighs and mutters to himself, "I wonder what will happen next." He exits the restroom.
To be continue