❰𝟰.𝟰.𝟭❱➣ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 {𝕞•𝕙}❘ [𝖆𝖙𝖘𝖛 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗]

🕷｡:•.─ 𝘄𝗵𝗼'𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲? ─.•:｡🕷

˚ ༘✶ ⋆｡˚

"All stations, drop what you're doing, and stop Spiderman!" Miguel ordered all the Spider-people in the HQ. He himself was running down a corridor to get after Miles.

But everyone was confused, not knowing how to process the vague information, and pointed at each other.

"You?"

"Him?"

"Me?"

"Ay, coño!" Miguel cursed in annoyance, "Miles! Miles Morales! He's entering Sector Four!"

All the Spiders in Sector Four turned around when the doors opened and a Spiderman with four tentacles extending from his back walked out. He stopped abruptly when he noticed all the Spiders were eyeing him suspiciously.

"Do I, uh, have web on my face?" The Spider-man used one tentacle to reach to dust his cheeks, "What's the deal?"

"Miles! He—Turn around!" Miguel was running towards the door from the other end, "Turn around!"

"I don't see anything, boss," the man turned to face him, shrugging, and gave his back to the other Spiders, revealing Miles who was in fact clinging onto his suit on his back.

Just before Miguel could run through the doors, they shut, making him skid to a stop. He turned around when he felt a presence behind him.

"Miguel, we need to talk," you appeared in his line of sight, hanging by a web, and landed on the floor.

Miguel blinked at you, glancing around, "Did you just lock up this hallway?"

"Spot told us that Miles and I created him," you began.

He rolled his head about as though the very mention of this topic was tiring him, which it was, "Mi amor, this is not the time!"

"If Spot's targeting Miles, then I must also be the other target since I'm also to blame for his present state. You said Miles was not supposed to be in Mumbattan; and that he disrupted the cannon. But I was there too and you scolded me for being there. Not Gwen, not Hobie, Me," you emphasized, jabbing your forefinger at your chest, "If Spot is an anomaly linked to Miles who is also an anomaly," you exhaled slowly, fearing to even utter the next few words, "That must mean I'm an anomaly as well,"

Miguel was frigid in his place, unable to respond to your monologue. His shoulders were tense and stiff, as though he was caught in the act.

You tapped on your multiversal watch and a hologram appeared in the air in front of you.

Miguel felt the air seize out of his lungs— it was the file that he was overviewing before you had arrived. The one he swiped away when you had asked about it.

"So far whatever I've found— It's a 50-50 chance that I'm right or wrong. So, please," your voice came out shaky, begging, "Tell me that I'm wrong,"