Patent Pending – Family Ties

[x-otoxic.livejournal.com]

Miles visits his Uncle Aaron to unwind after last night's battle but makes a terrible discovery.


This weekend seemed to be going from one big mistake to another, so Miles figured that it probably wouldn't matter much if he piled another one on top of the rest. Regardless of what his father said, he could always count on Uncle Aaron for a few laughs, and after the night he had, he needed that more than anything. He pressed the buzzer at the front door of Aaron's apartment complex in Harlem and waited for a response.

A voice, almost unintelligible, crackled over the speakers. It was followed seconds later by an aggressively loud buzz, and the click of the door's lock being released. As Miles trudged up the stairs, a door on the third floor landing swung open. A faint smell of weed, one that perhaps a lesser human wouldn't have noticed, wafted into the hall as a somewhat tall man poked his head around the door jamb. "Hey!" Aaron smiled, watching his nephew approach. He stepped out into the hall. "Look who it is!"

"Hi, Uncle Aaron," the boy greeted with less than his usual enthusiasm, which he chalked up to exhaustion. He wrinkled his face a little at the smell, one which he had come to recognize from his visits here and befriending Gabriel at the mansion, but hid it by taking Aaron in a moderately strong hug. "Sorry I didn't call, I was just . . . around and thought I should stop by while I'm here. If that's okay."

"Of course it's okay." Miles' uncle wrapped his arms around Miles, squeezing him a little. He smiled as he pulled away and ushered Miles into his apartment. "You don't drop by enough, especially not anymore now that you're up in wherever. Westchester." He pulled the door shut behind him, flipping the bottom lock, then setting the door chain and locking a top lock as well. "Haven't called much either, but I guess all you kids do today is sext on Snapchat and send each other emoticons."

"You sound like Warren," Miles sighed affectionately. He plopped down on the well-worn couch and kicked up his legs onto the coffee table. All things considered, he felt right at home here. Although he did keep an eye out for any creepy crawlies. "Things've been . . . really busy. Classes, and the place I'm staying at has all these extracurriculars. My mom complains that I don't call her enough, either, so."

"Sounds like her." Aaron grinned as he walked toward the refrigerator. "You should listen to her, though. Your mom's good people." Bottles on the shelf clanged as he pulled the fridge door open. "That place treating you good?" The door slammed shut. "Seems weird to have you so far away." Aaron placed a Coke on the table in front of Miles before sitting in a leather chair near the couch.

Miles reached over to the table to pick up the can, but fiddled nervously with it instead of cracking it open to drink. "Yeah, it's good," he answered simply, gaze fixed on the soda in his hands. "Everyone's real nice. Got a good roommate. He's obsessed with the Islanders. One time he . . ." Miles snapped his mouth shut before he described how Bobby had tried to disastrously reenact a winning shot with a stick and puck made of ice. They'd had to quickly move one of Bobby's posters to cover up the dent he made in the wall. "I like it even more than Brooklyn Visions. What have, uh, what've you been doing?"

"Oh, you know." Aaron opened the can of beer he'd retrieved from the fridge. He looked up at Miles with a smile. "Work's been keeping me busy. Had to go out of town a bit." He took a sip of his drink before putting it down on the coffee table. "'S nice to be back home, though." He stood. "Actually, before I forget, I brought you some souvenirs."

"Ooh, presents." That brought a smile. Miles could always count on his uncle to be thinking of him. "Where'd you go this time?"

"A few places, little man." Aaron's smile widened as he passed Miles and went down the narrow hallway to his bedroom. "They gave me a bunch of trips in a pretty short period of time, but I kinda like it that way." Drawers opened and shut in succession. "Huh. Where'd I... Oh, right." From down the hall, Miles heard his uncle grunt before the croak of a mattress. The scratch of a zipper signaled the opening of a suitcase. "Got it."

Aaron returned, three distinctly-shaped objects wrapped in tissue-paper in his hand. "Got to see a few places, tour the nightlife. Meet some ladies." He winked at his nephew and laughed at the kid's reaction. "Here you go."

"So I heard about this thing called Truvada in health class," Miles teased, greedily accepting the gifts. Just a handful of little souvenirs, nothing grand, but Miles had a whole shelf of these things back home. (Hidden behind some books so his disapproving father wouldn't see, but the little shrine was there.)

Miles chuckled as he unwrapped the first one, a pair of keychains from Baltimore, one in the shape of a crab and the other designed like something called Old Bay. The next package contained a peach-shaped bottle opener with the name Atlanta written in a fancy font across it. And the third, a small stuffed panda wearing a San Diego Zoo t-shirt.

Baltimore, Atlanta, and San Diego. The same three cities in which Worthington Industries was targeted. It must have been a coincidence, because there was just no way. Right? Impossible. "That's, uh, kind of all over the place. When'd you go all the way to California?"

"God, I dunno." Miles' uncle shrugged. "A week ago? Maybe a little more. I left early one morning, came back a few days later on a red eye." He sat back down and scooped the beer off the table, glancing at the panda. "Zoo was fun, but I almost missed my flight, and I was a zombie by the time I got back." He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "Time zones."

"Yeah, time zones," Miles mumbled. "Heard San Diego has koalas there. Never seen one of those before." His eyes ran from one gift to the next as his brain worked to put together his discordant thoughts.

Fact: Three locations of Worthington Industries were broken into recently.

Fact: These locations were San Diego, Baltimore, and Atlanta. Not to mention last night's right here in New York City.

Fact: Uncle Aaron just admitted to being in these three other cities at the same times as the thefts. And he was probably in New York last night.

Fact: Prowler spoke Spanish and seemed surprised when Spider-Miles did, too.

Fact: Uncle Aaron and Prowler were about the same height and same build.

Fact: Hadn't Dad once mentioned that Uncle Aaron used to get arrested all the time as a kid for shoplifting and pickpocketing? When he got caught, that is.

Together, these led to one hypothesis. One that terrified Miles to examine. "So, uh, d'you got more work coming up? Gonna rack up more flier miles?"

"Who knows?" Aaron shrugged and took a healthy swig of his beer. "Nothing on my agenda. I'm hoping to stick around for a little while - still not convinced man was meant to fly." He chuckled. "Why? You want me to pick something else up on the road?"

Miles put the bear down on the coffee table and picked up the can of Coke, which left a ring of condensation on the cheap wood. He flipped the top and took a big gulp to wash away the lump in his throat. "Can never have enough shot glasses," he replied before belching. At least he still had the presence on mind to look apologetic. "Perdón."

"Please," Aaron laughed. "Just us guys." He guzzled down a little more beer as if to punctuate the point, then shrugged again. "You want another? Or something to eat or something?" He scratched the back of his neck, glancing at his nephew. "I'm not much of a host."

Miles managed a small smile and shook his head. "No, it's okay. I can't stay long, anyway. One of the, uh, advisors is supposed to pick me up soon and go back with me to the school. Summer classes. College prep stuff. Got SATs and stuff next year, you know."

"Oh." Aaron's smile faded a little, and for a second, his face fell. "Well," he said after a second, suddenly brightening as if nothing had happened, "look at you, working hard. That's how you get ahead, man. Go to college, get yourself a good job. Leave me and your dad and Brooklyn behind."

"I'm never leaving New York," Miles vowed. The future might be unclear, but at least some things are certain. Emboldened by that thought, he hazarded a small test of his hypothesis. "Just, you know, some day when I'm president at Worthington Industries, I'll be living in a house that floats over Central Park."

"A deluxe apartment in the sky." Aaron laughed. "There's the dream, man. There's the dream."

No reaction. Miles hid a frown behind the soda can. Was he disappointed that his uncle hadn't taken the bait? Or that maybe his suspicions were wrong? Ugh. Why couldn't that spider have given him telepathy, too?

Climbing the stairs up to Aaron's apartment buildding so he could get buzzed in to get Miles, Matt was feeling his injuries. He had slept reasonably well and had spent the day meditating and generally staying quiet so now he was able to better function. Waiting for the door to unlock, he leaned on his cane, grateful for it.

"That's probably Matt now," Miles said while Aaron got up to buzz in the guest. Miles quickly drained the rest of his drink, belched again, and gathered the possibly ill-gotten gifts.

Thankfully there was an elevator and Matt didn't have to walk up all the stairs. His own apartment was a 6th floor walkup, but so far he'd only had to walk down it. Matt unashamedly eavesdropped through the wall. Miles was there, a little stressed judging from his heartbeat, which was sadly not what he had hoped for, but also very understandable. The other heartbeat though....huh. He listened closer before he knocked. He knew that heartbeat. Fuck. He knocked.

Aaron moved from the buzzer to the door, where he promptly looked out the peephole. "Oh," he said, glancing over his shoulder at Miles with an eyebrow raised. "Yeah. This must be one of yours." He swung the door open to reveal the white man standing behind it.

"Hey. Uh, Uncle Aaron, this is Matt. He's one of the, uh, advisers at the school I go to." That lie was taking Miles pretty far. "Matt, this is my Uncle Aaron. He got me this cute thing. From San Diego," he emphasized as he held up the bear that he forgot Matt couldn't actually see.

"You want to give me a hand here, Miles?" Matt suggested gently. Miles didn't have a lot of experience with him as a blind man, "I am sure it's very cute though. Manly and all that," cute and manly didn't tend to go together, but whatever. How did he tell Miles that his uncle was the Prowler? Short answer? He didn't. Not in front of the guy anyways. He offered his hand, playing up his blindness, "Good to meet you," he offered.

"Yeah, same." Aaron shot Miles a look, his eyebrow raised like he wasn't totally sure what to make of the guy in front of him. Still, he shook Matt's hand fairly quickly. "And you work up at the school?" He crossed his arms.

"Part-time," Miles interceded before Matt could reply. "Helps with some legal stuff, like making sure credits transfer or whatever. We should go. Gotta catch the train." He was halfway out the door before he realized that he'd forgotten something. He turned again to give his uncle a goodbye hug. A weak, dispirited, very un-Miles-like hug. "I'll come back soon. I promise."

If Aaron noticed his nephew's lack of spirit, he didn't say anything, although he may have compensated with a little extra strength when he bent down for a hug. "Good," he said with a smile. "It's been too long, kid. Oh, hey," he looked up and nodded at Matt. "Good to meet you. Watch out for him."

"Good to meet you, too," Matt agreed, "I'll try. He's a good kid," he gave Miles the opportunity to get his things and then he took the teens shoulder to guide him out. Miles had enough practice doing that. Then home.

Miles was silent until they exited the apartment building and rounded the next block. "Matt, I think I found out something," he muttered, so quietly that only someone with superhuman hearing would be able to understand him over the city cacophony. Because of a desire for secrecy or because of shame? Miles couldn't be sure himself. "About what happened last night. I really hope I'm wrong but if I'm not then it's really really bad . . ."

"About your uncle," Matt replied. It wasn't a question. He hadn't decided yet if he should say something to Miles about it or not and was glad it was out of his hands. "I know. I'm sorry."

"How could you . . .? Oh, the heartbeat thing?" That nailed it, then. Miles sighed heavily. "What do we do?"

There was no easy answer to that. "We..." Matt sighed. "What do you want to do?" He didn't want to promise that they'd do what Miles wanted, but it was his family. He had to consider that.

"I can't believe . . . How does this happen? I'm a hero and my uncle - my uncle! - is a bad guy." What kind of awful cliche. It was one thing to ponder the moral quandary of vigilantism. Exercising that vigilantism against a beloved member of the family took that to a whole other level. But what else was there to do? Miles sighed again. "Let's go back to your place and get Peter. Warren . . . he's still really beat up from last night. We can't ask him again right now."

Matt had gotten stitches last night, but then he was used to being in pain from this sort of thing. "Not back to school?" He asked, not disagreeing. "You're making a liar out of me," but he headed towards to train platform to take him back to Manhattan instead of North to Westchester.

"Says the lawyer."