𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓼- 𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓞'𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓪

The Silvery Lab

"Fine." Miguel straightened his powerful shoulders, drawing to his full height to address you with his command. "Come to the Spider Center at exactly 9pm tonight. If you make me wait, i'll make you regret it."

"Good!" Jessica clapped her hands. "Then it's settled. Lyla, go help her out with those web slingers."

Lyla, who'd been patiently watching the exchange with an amused smirk on her face, nodded and skipped off. You strode after her, grateful for an excuse to leave. Miguel could schedule as many training sessions as he wanted to. You wouldn't be attending them, anyway.

"He's a pill, isn't he?" Lyla cackled after you'd stepped out of earshot from Miguel. The corridors she guided you down were shiny and lined with silver metal. The slick ground squeaked beneath the rubbery soles of your suit.

"A cyanide pill, maybe." You tilted your head in agreement, and Lyla laughed again, delighted by your quick and clever insult.

You finally reached a boxy room, organized with stifling perfection. Experimental pipettes, flasks, and beakers lined the tables in flawless order. Odd gadgets piled high, some dissected into the carnage of chips and pieces. The scientific room's only decoration was a cheesy bright red poster with fancy lettering that proclaimed:

Never make compromises.

"Wow, let me guess what bundle of fun works here," you dryly said to Lyla, who laughed again at your jab at Miguel. "Im assuming you made him buy the poster to brighten things up?"

"He actually picked it out himself. Came home with it one day and insisted on hanging it up." Lyla wrinkled her nose, clearly offended by its tackiness. "I think he finds it inspirational."

You didn't find it inspirational. You actually found the motto a little stupid. Sometimes, compromises can prevent bad situations from unraveling into terrible situations. But the unapologetic statement was certainly true to Miguel's stubborn character.

"Here you are," Lyla hummed, strapping two lightweight, gold-plated cuffs onto your wrists. "Try them out." You stuck your tongue out slightly, focusing as you pressed your middle finger down on the trigger. Sticky, red strands shot out, laserlike and durable.

"They're red," you said, surprised. You'd expected the traditional, wispy-white cobwebs.

"Miguel spent months designing these," Lyla explained, rolling her eyes affectionately. "He's really proud of them. 'The perfected web model.' Twice the durability, and they can conduct electricity if you flip the switch."

The thought of dangling from Miguel's invention made you recoil. You didn't quite trust his research skills.

"So he's in here a lot, huh?" You mused, trailing a finger along one of the gadgets you recognized: The bulky, black watch that had been clasped around his wrist. "What's this do?"

"These watches open a wormhole between dimensions." Lyla's projection eagerly zipped over to the platter of watches. "Miguel invented it for-" Lyla broke off, shaking her head as a shadow darkened her yellow-tinted face. "Well, never mind that. He uses it now to keep the multiverse safe." She thoughtfully adjusted her glasses. "It was hard to see him like that."

"Like what?" You asked offhandedly, trying to distract Lyla. You strolled around Miguel's lab, memorizing the pivoting cameras and the gridded air vents. The watches could tear through dimensions. If you could steal
one, you could get back to Queens. Your Queens, not this warped, futuristic version. Fierce hope flared in your chest. With one of the watches fastened around your wrist, you could return before your sister's chemo treatment. You would break out of Miguel's prison. You would be there, for her.

"He slept with his head on that desk every night. He stopped eating, he stopped working out." Lyla let out a sad chuckle. "And let me tell you, that man loves working out. It was like he just... unraveled. There was something scary about how obsessed he became."

After securing you with two, cutting-edge technology web-slingers, Lyla supervised you to the barracks.

Quadruple-deckered bunkbeds had been shoved against the walls, constructed from sturdy white wood. The spider-man variants draped across the beds and lounged on the floor, chatting and dozing. It looked like a magnificent, themed sleepover.

As soon as you stepped inside, Arachnida waved you over, her posture perky and her smile bright. Beside her, you recognized Hobie strumming a magenta guitar.

"Oi, Spidergirl." He acknowledged you with a lazy tilt of his head.

"Hey, Hobie." You grinned at him remembering you, picking through the crowd to reach him and Arachnida. "You any good?" You indicated his guitar with your head. From the shadows, a monochrome spider-man with a trench coat stared out, the eyes of his mask glossy and grey.

"He's been playing all night," the black-and-white spider-man stated in a low voice, twirling a colorful rubik's cube in his fingers. "And i'll be darned, the kid's not bad."

"(Y/n)," Arachnida cheerfully announced, elegantly perching on the edge of puffy bottom mattress. "Meet Spiderman Noir. And you already know me and Hobie. I saved you a bed in our bunk. We're all Unit 5, which means we'll be working as a team during training."

"That's pretty cool," you admitted, sliding onto the mattress next to her. It sunk underneath you, pillowy-soft under the sheets. You drew your knees loosely against your chest, smiling softly as Hobie picked a ragged melody on his guitar.

"I wrote this song about the stifling pressure of authority," Hobie declared, and Arachnida gave a galvanizing whoop that rippled through the room in laughing cheers. "Miguel and Jessica, this one's for you." He saluted the air with a crooked smirk.

The night trickled by like honey dripping from a jar, sweet and golden. Hobie sang with a scratchy voice, his lanky legs splayed out on the floor as he leaned his back against the bed frame. You and Arachnida swayed and laughed and sang along.

When 9pm drifted by, you completely forgot about Miguel, pacing alone in the dark training room.

You should've known you would pay for standing him up.