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“I’m Miles Morales. But you can call me The Prowler.”
Those simple words from the teenager dressed as The Prowler sent Miles’ world tumbling down.
Not to mention that they could have been twins: if it weren’t for their different hairstyles, they would have been completely indiscernible from one another. There was no denying that this was another Miles Morales.
“W-wait, okay, hear me out–”
Miles’ senses went haywire, and he barely had time to brace himself before a metal fist connected with his stomach. The punching bag he was attached to went swinging wildly as he wheezed, and the Prowler absently twirled it when it got close enough, making Miles want to vomit. Through the haze of pain and his spinning head, he saw his own face and that of Uncle Aaron’s watching on emotionlessly.
Eventually, the Prowler grew tired of the spinning and halted the punching bag, bringing their twin faces close again.
“I’ll ask you again,” he said in a deceptively soft voice. “Who. Are. You?”
“Listen, I know it probably doesn’t make any sense, but I’m you from a different universe, and our dad’s in trouble–”
“Your dad.”
Another fist, this time to the face. Miles wheezed and felt a dribble of blood go down his chin from a split lip.
“I’m gonna ask again,” The Prowler growled. “Who are you? And why the hell do you have my face?”
“I already told you, I’m you from an alternate universe! I accidentally–”
“Do I seem like someone you should be bullshitting, kid?” Prowler sneered at him. He turned to Uncle Aaron. “Do I look gullible or somethin’?”
“Not from over here,” Aaron said casually.
Electricity crackled at the tips of The Prowler’s pointed glove. “If you don’t start tellin’ the truth, we’re gonna have to get serious,” he swore.
Miles’ mind raced, trying to find a way to convince this alternate version of himself that they were one and the same.
“Okay, we go to Brooklyn Visions Academy–”
“I dropped out after a week,” The Prowler sneered, and he punched Miles in the face again. Miles grunted in pain, the punch landing on his already bruised cheek and sending his thoughts flying from his head.
“Our mom is a nurse–”
“Easy to look up.”
Claws raked across his chest.
God, if only he could focus and find a way–
The subway station.
“The–the subway station!”
The whole room froze.
Miles seized the opportunity, sensing that he’d finally found something they could connect on. “M-me–you–-us-–we used to go with Uncle Aaron to the abandoned subway and we’d work on our graffiti together. We hung out there all the time. He taught us everything we know.”
It was a risk. He didn’t know how much of their stories overlapped, but he desperately hoped that they had this in common. It was such an integral part of the Miles Morales identity.
His eyes darted between The Prowler and Uncle Aaron, waiting for one of them to do something. For a moment, the way that The Prowler was staring at him made him think he’d made a mistake. But finally, The Prowler and Uncle Aaron shared a meaningful look.
Aaron sighed and stepped forward. Miles held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, expecting yet another fist to the cheek, but instead, the chains abruptly loosened.
He yelped and fell to the floor in a heap, pain exploding in his side.
(God, did he have a broken rib? He didn’t have time for a broken rib. He had to go save his damn dad!)
A clawed glove appeared by his head, and he blanched away out of habit, even if his senses weren’t warning him of imminent danger. The Prowler raised an eyebrow and didn’t move.
Miles hesitated before accepting the outstretched hand. He swayed on his feet, needing to hold the hand a second longer before gaining his balance.
He swallowed nervously. “Thanks.”
The Prowler just nodded. “C’mon.”
‘Cleaning up’ entailed dragging him by the elbow to a dingy bathroom off the main room. Miles stood and warily watched as The Prowler pulled out a First Aid kit, Uncle Aaron leaning in the doorway and watching them like a hawk.
“You’re gonna have to explain this a bit more to me, Miles,” The Prowler said as he pulled out alcohol wipes and tossed them to the other teenager.
“I mean…what do you want to know?” Miles said, taking the small wipe to dab at his split lip. “There’s a lot.”
“Everything.”
When he was as cleaned up as he could get and had an icepack pressed against his aching ribs, he was led to a different section of the warehouse, where there was a banged-up couch. He eased onto it with a wince. The Prowler stood in front of him, arms crossed, and Uncle Aaron leaned on a nearby wall.
And then Miles started explaining. He explained how the spider that had bitten him had come from their universe, Earth-42. He explained the “anomalies”, and how the bite had made him into one had taken away their Spider-Man.
“So what you’re saying is, you’re the reason everything went to hell.”
Miles leaned back against the couch at The Prowler’s words, head hitting it with a thump. “Yeah,” he said honestly, guilt eating at the edges of his stomach. “I am.”
The Prowler hummed, face indecipherable.
Aaron snorted from where he was lounging against the wall. “You should be thankin’ him, Miles,” he said with dark humor. “We wouldn’t be in business without him.”
The Prowler rolled his eyes, but it lacked any real annoyance. Miles winced at the accuracy of the statement, and at how–how wrong it all felt. How wrong it was to hear Uncle Aaron’s voice as he talked to this different Miles.
Miles went on to explain Uncle Aaron’s death. It felt like a fever dream, explaining someone’s death to their face. To his credit, Aaron took it all with an indifferent expression. Miles, though…Miles was a bit more raw. Especially as Miles began explaining that his father’s death was a canon event that the other Spider-people wanted him to let happen.
“If–they said that if it doesn’t happen, the whole world will collapse,” Miles said helplessly.
“By that logic, shouldn’t our world not exist right now? Since–what did you call it?--a canon event was missed, then we should be falling apart. Yours, too. But we’re still here.”
And they were. In all of its fucked up glory, Earth-42’s Brooklyn existed without a Spider-Man, and Miles’ world existed with him as a second Spider-Man. It didn’t make sense–none of it did.
“I know,” Miles said helplessly. “That’s why I gotta get back to my world, and save my dad.”
“And how are you planning on doing that?”
“Well…I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he finally admitted, shoulders slumping. “I thought I’d have my friends helping me, and I could use their bracelet, but…” But that had proven to be a lot more complicated.
“So you’re alone, then.”
Miles opened his mouth to argue but found that the words wouldn’t come out. There weren’t any words to say, because his counterpart was telling the truth. He was alone. Gwen had known everything and had been willing to leave him in the dark. Peter B. Parker had tried to convince him to let his father die. Miguel wanted his head on a spike for something he didn’t even do.
His parents were dimensions away, and his father was going to die soon.
Because of him.
The realization had emotion choking him.
“Yeah,” Miles rasped quietly, trying to hold himself together. “I guess I am.” He was getting really sick of repeating himself. And he was getting sick of his other self calling him out like this.
The Prowler tilted his head consideringly. His gaze was unnerving, and Miles quickly wanted to fill the silence.
“So…how did you become The Prowler?” Miles finally asked, anxiously picking at his nails.
What a terrible, terrible question to ask.
The Prowler’s face went even colder. “My pops was killed in front of me,” he said shortly. “The other cops did nothing, and the city was eating itself alive. It was either get stronger or die.”
The answer was succinct and to the point. Miles swallowed and nodded slowly, heart pounding in his chest as his mind raced.
Had that been his future, too, if the spider hadn’t bitten him? Had he been destined to watch his father die, and turn into The Prowler to build a criminal empire? It was such a bizarre thought that he couldn’t comprehend it. But here was proof sitting across from him: a version of himself that hadn’t been bitten by a radioactive spider, whose timeline had played out as normal.
It was haunting. Downright terrifying.
But he couldn’t think about that now. He had to focus, damn it.
“Maybe if I can get to this world’s Alchemex, I can work out a way to–”
He was interrupted by a loud crack, followed by the crackle of electricity. The trio immediately bolted upright, Miles’ pain dissipating as the adrenaline kicked in. He watched as a portal slowly unfurled in the center of the room.
It looked like his time had run out. Miguel had found him.
“Stay behind me,” Miles gritted out, muscles tensing as he prepared for a fight.
The Prowler stared at him in disbelief, and with a jerk of his chin, his mask was coming around his head and over his face again. He stood next to Miles, claws out and at the ready.
“As if.”
The portal was…different from the other ones he’d seen. Rougher, sharper around the edges. A cacophony of colors, rather than the warm red and yellow tones of the ones he was familiar with. It oddly reminded Miles of Hobie.
The last person he expected to see came swinging through the portal. Instead of Miguel O’Hara, Gwen landed in a graceful crouched pose, much closer to them than expected and without her mask. Hobie and Peter B. Parker followed her moments later.
Out of what seemed like reflex, The Prowler grabbed Miles’ arm, yanking him back a few steps with him to put more distance between them.
Gwen’s gaze jumped from Miles’ face to the hand on his upper arm, and rage shone in her eyes. She bared her teeth.
“Let him go,” she snarled, stance sliding into a fighter’s.
The Prowler mirrored her motions. His glove started to glow purple, and Miles knew that if he didn’t step in quickly, something terrible was going to happen.
“Whoa, whoa, okay, everyone, slow down,” Miles exclaimed, stumbling to stand between them. He looked desperately between the two of them. “Let’s just–-talk, okay?”
“Miles, you need to move,” Gwen said, voice edged with worry. “That’s the Prowler.”
“No, he’s–-he’s okay, trust me!”
“Try saying that again when you don’t have a black eye and a split lip.”
Well, she had a point. Everything was pointing to something fishy, and Miles would be suspicious if he stumbled upon a situation like this, too.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Miles hastily said.
“We worked it out,” Prowler rumbled.
Miles ran a tired hand down his face. “Dude, can you, like, let me do the talking? You just sound so–menacing.”
The Prowler stared at him, his disbelief apparent even through his mask.
“Of course he’s menacing, he’s The Prowler!” Peter shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. On his chest, Mayday tried to copy the motion with a giggle.
“Please, just trust me,” Miles begged. “He’s–-” He’s me. “He’s been helping me.”
He wasn’t about to out The Prowler’s secret identity to a group of superheroes. It would put into jeopardy the tentative relationship they had started to form. Not to mention, that would lead to a whole line of questioning he didn’t know if he could answer.
“Helping seems like an overstatement,” Hobie said, but his body language was casual. He wandered around the room, uncaring of the gun Uncle Aaron had pointed at him. He held up a rusted saw. “Nice setup you got here. Torture warehouse? Very classy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the classics,” The Prowler rumbled, sounding almost petulant.
“Listen, if we can just–” Miles began, reaching out as if to snatch the saw from Hobie’s hands. His words choked him as he jostled his injured ribs.
Gwen’s eyes narrowed in on Miles, immediately picking up on the movement. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. “What’s wrong with your side?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Miles hastily said.
He felt his spider senses ping, but couldn’t react fast enough before Hobie was next to him and flicking his side, right over his hurt ribs. Pain erupted again, and he hissed, bending over as best as he could.
“Don’t seem like nuffin’,” Hobie said in a monotone. “That your definition of helping, Prowler?”
The Prowler didn’t respond, crossing his arms.
“I have accelerated healing, I’ll be fine in a few hours,” Miles said defensively as he regained his composure. He was thankful that the scratches from The Prowler’s claws could easily be mistaken for marks left by Miguel. Hopefully, he silently added.
“Look, we don’t have time for this,” Gwen said, shaking her head quickly. “Listen, Miles. We can get you back to your universe, and–-”
“You really gonna trust them?” The Prowler asked abruptly, interrupting Gwen. His mask gave nothing away, and Miles stared at him, surprised. “You’re gonna trust them after everything they did to you?”
“Didn’t do nothin’,” Hobie muttered under his breath before Gwen could respond. She glared at him. “What? ‘S the truth. The man’s got a point.”
“You can’t seriously think we’d come here just to drag you back to HQ,” Peter said, trying to mediate the conversation before it could take a turn for the worse.
“I mean,” Miles relented, “for all I know, your locations are being tracked right now”--Peter winced–”and Miguel’s about to–-to rip my throat out with his freaky vampire teeth.”
“We’re not with them anymore,” Gwen hastily said.
“Quit right after you escaped,” Hobie smirked, head tossed back proudly with his hands in his pockets.
Gwen winced and nervously fiddled with the hood of her suit. “They kicked me out,” she finally admitted, refusing to look up from the floor.
Eyes went to Peter B. Parker. He sheepishly shrugged. “My membership’s under review for the foreseeable future,” he responded.
Miles’ eyes widened in disbelief, gaze darting around the room at the other superheroes.
“What–then–then how’d you get here?”
Gwen held up her wrist, showing a cobbled-together watch. “Hobie made me a watch.”
“You’re welcome,” Hobie added as threw himself onto the couch.
Miles blinked in disbelief as he remembered watching Hobie snatch random pieces of tech from HQ. “Why did you do that?” Miles asked quietly, his voice filled with emotion.
“Because we have to,” Gwen said, hesitantly taking a step forward. “I can’t– we can’t just…just stand by and let it happen.”
“But you were going to,” Miles said, and some of the anger filtered back into his mind. “You all were. You knew. And you were just waiting for it to happen.”
Peter B. Parker shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and Gwen looked near tears. Hobie was staring at them with open hostility, jaw twitching as he gritted his teeth.
“Miles, we’ve seen universes torn apart,” Peter tried to explain, “completely unraveled because of canon events being missed or changed. You saw it yourself. Think about Pav's world. We–”
“Then how do you explain us?” The Prowler interrupted, crossing his arms. “How do you explain our worlds staying the same?”
“I…”
Peter seemed at a loss for words.
“I don’t know,” he finally admitted. “I don’t know. The odds–-the odds weren’t in your favor. It’s a statistical anomaly.”
“An anomaly,” Miles repeated, scoffing. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”
“Okay, yeah, maybe that wasn’t the best word choice for me. I’m flyin’ by the seat of my pants, okay? I have no clue how to handle this situation, and I’m starting to get scared that parenting a toddler is gonna be like this and that means me and Mayday are gonna have a rollercoaster of a few years–”
“Please stop talking,” Hobie begged, head lolling on the back of the couch. “No one needs to hear about your parental crisis.”
Peter took a few deep breaths. “Alright. Yeah. You’re right. I just started spiraling.”
“We could tell,” The Prowler uttered under his breath. Peter shot him a glare while Hobie smirked faintly. Louder, he continued, “Look, this is all heartwarming and all, but can you please fuck off now?”
“Gladly,” Gwen said as she started fiddling with the watch. “We don’t have much time.”
“Wait.” Miles’ stomach dropped. “How long was I out?” he asked desperately. “How much longer until Dad becomes captain?”
“We still have some time, kid,” Peter soothed him.
“We’re going to fix this, Miles,” Gwen said firmly, eyes hard and guileless. “I promise.”
Even though he knew things weren’t fully smoothed over yet with Gwen, Miles felt something in his chest relax at her words. Because even after finding out about the secrets she’d been keeping from him, she was his friend. Someone he knew had his best interests at heart, even if he disagreed with the methods. Peter, too, to an extent. And while he hadn’t known Hobie for that long, the punk rocker’s love for breaking the rules and going against the powers that be made Miles want to trust him.
“Miles.”
He froze at the sound of The Prowler saying his name. The Spider-people in the room stared warily at the supervillain in the room.
“Wanna talk to you before you go,” he said, chucking his head towards the exit. “Alone.”
“Not a chance,” Peter broke in. “Whatever you gotta say, you can say it here.”
“I don’t think Miles would appreciate it if I said what I gotta say in front of you.”
Panic thrilled up Miles’ spine. The Prowler wouldn’t reveal his identity just to spite Miles, would he? No, no, he definitely would, if his posture was anything to go by.
Swallowing down his growing panic, Miles warbled out, “Guys, it’s okay. I’m just gonna–we’re gonna talk for a few minutes. Then we can go.”
Gwen looked ready to argue, but it was Hobie that stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Lemme go wif you, then,” Hobie bargained. “Not like I’ve much skin in the game.”
He was right. Hobie was the one who was the least likely to freak out at whatever The Prowler had to say. Peter was too invested in being a father, and Gwen…he didn’t want Gwen to see his alternate self. He didn’t want her to see what he could have become.
Gwen made a disbelieving noise in the back of her throat when Miles assented and made a motion to follow, but Peter held her back with a minute shake of his head. She watched on as Miles and Hobie were led by the Prowler and Uncle Aaron out of the building.
“I wanna go with you.”
Of all the things he’d been expecting The Prowler to say, that wasn’t one of them.
“You can’t do that–”
“It’s my dad, too.”
The raw emotion in The Prowler’s voice startled Miles. From the sharp breath Hobie let out, it startled him, as well.
“What’s he mean, his dad, too?” Hobie asked softly. When there was no immediate response, he pressed, “Miles?”
The younger teen couldn’t look at him, keeping his gaze trained guiltily on The Prowler. The villain cocked his head to the side, and his mask smoothly slid away, revealing Miles’ face. Hobie made a surprised noise in the back of his throat.
“I’m Miles,” The Prowler said simply, hard eyes meeting Hobie’s fearlessly before sliding to Earth-1610’s Miles. “A different one. Apparently.”
“Please, don’t tell the others,” Miles mumbled. “I don’t–I don’t know how they’ll react.”
He wanted to pretend like everyone, especially Gwen, would be understanding, but after their betrayal, he couldn’t be fully certain. Who was to say they wouldn’t see him as a liability, someone that needed to be dealt with. Maybe they would see him as a villain, and he’d end up in an energy field with the rest of the supervillains.
Hobie opened his mouth to respond, but The Prowler version of Miles beat him to the punch.
“You’ve been askin’ me to trust you a whole lot, and now I’m askin’ you to do the same. You don’t know how his death affected everyone here. How much it hurt our mom.”
Emotions whirled in Miles’ head making him dizzy.
“I–”
He was interrupted by the world turning to jagged colors as he glitched again, this time longer and more painful than the others. He keened, unsteadily falling to the side against the building, holding onto his head to try and will the pain away.
“Doesn’t matter what you wanna do or not,” Hobie said with a shrug. He patted Miles heavily on the shoulder. “See how he keeps glitching? That’ll happen to you. And trust me, it don’t feel good. You’ll be more of a nuisance than anythin’ else.”
Rage flared in The Prowler’s eyes, and for a terrifying moment, Miles thought that he was going to lunge at Spider-Punk. But instead, he took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly.
“Fine,” he gritted out. “Fine. Go and save your dad, and live happily ever after because you’ve fucked up this world beyond repair.”
The words were like a dagger in Miles’ chest. He took a shuddering breath in. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly. “I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, but you gotta believe me. I didn’t want it to happen like this. If I’d known…”
If he’d known, then what? Would he have come to Earth-42, and played around as their Spider-Man, away from his real family? Would he have been able to stop this Miles Morales from becoming The Prowler?
Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t have been able to do anything. He was as much a victim of the circumstances as everyone else.
“Miles.”
Both of them turned to look at Uncle Aaron, who was standing behind The Prowler. His face was inscrutable.
“Let ‘em go,” he said softly to The Prowler. “There’s no point.”
“C’mon, mate,” Hobie said, throwing his arm around Miles’ shoulders. “Pav and the others are waiting. Let’s go save your dad and destroy some worlds.” Despite his lackadaisical attitude and jokes, his smile and eyes were a soft mixture of sympathy and concern.
Squaring his shoulders, Miles turned to look at The Prowler and Uncle Aaron one last time, who were having some sort of silent argument. Finally, The Prowler let out a tight breath.
“Go save our pops for us,” Earth-42’s Miles Morales said quietly, refusing to look at his doppelganger.
Miles swallowed convulsively. His eyes darted to Uncle Aaron, who had been standing like a silent sentinel. His face was indecipherable, but there was something akin to grief in his eyes before he looked away.
“Thank you.”
When they reentered the warehouse, Gwen was anxiously pacing, arms crossed, while Peter toyed with Mayday’s hands. They both looked up as Hobie and Miles approached, the relief palpable.
“Is everything alright?” Gwen asked, eyes scanning for any injuries. She started reaching out, as if to touch Miles, but stopped at the last moment, pulling herself back.
“Everything’s solid,” Miles rasped. “Let’s go.”
Gwen looked like she wanted to say something else, but bit her tongue. She nodded, and started twisting the dial on her watch. A few moments later, a portal opened next to her, torn around the edges and a cacophony of colors. She motioned for them to follow, and Peter and Hobie went in after her.
Miles hesitated for a moment, glancing behind him. He thought he saw a flash of neon purple, but it was gone before he could focus on it. Closing his eyes, he jumped into the portal.
(Later, after they landed in Earth-1610, Hobie pulled Miles to the side.
“You don’t need to worry, mate,” he said, sotto voce so the others wouldn’t hear. “Not gonna tell ‘em about what happened with The Prowler.”
Miles looked at him with confusion. “Why?” he couldn’t help but ask. It was like Hobie had said earlier: he had no skin in the game. What did he benefit from keeping this secret?
Hobie gave him a slightly pained smile. “All of us have secrets, right? Revolutions are messy. I’ve ‘ad my share of things I’m not proud of. ‘S no worries.”
Miles didn’t push.)