Chapter 1
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Miles took a deep breath and checked his equipment and uniform one last time before stepping through the portal, everything looked fine; Lyla was confirming with him the objective of the mission one last time:"Okay so you need to find Hobie Brown and see how's it going--if the situation is that bad or within 24 hours we never hear from you report back, more backup will be sent. Is that clear?"
"Yeah yeah, find Hobie, see if he needs any help, and report back to ya right? I got it. So what exactly are we fighting?? Like an army of symbiont?"
Miles still wanted to keep asking, this was pretty much his first solo mission since joining the Alliance; just moments before he stepped through the portal, Miles looked at the font on the screen above:
Earth-38
At the same time, Lyla's voice prompted him: "Okay--Earth-138, have a safe trip !"
"Wait--"
Miles wanted to say something else, but he was already engulfed by the teleportation matrix; in a dazzling array of colors he finally convinced himself that maybe it was an illusion and he might have missed a number. After all, machines never make mistakes.
...... right?
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"Hey Miguel - where's the kid?"
Peter yelled hard at the leader in between being pestered by two or three symbiotes; the situation on this planet was a little more complicated than he thought it would be, like the fact that he never thought an army of symbiotes could cause so much trouble, or the fact that Miles was missing.
"The hell am I supposed to know? Last time I checked you're his mentor, not me right?" Miguel looked around the battlefield, five or six Spideys, each entangled in an army of Venom two or three times their size, except Spider-punk --Spider-punk is standing on the top floor of one of the tallest buildings, with an electric guitar in his hand. Likewise, he's having trouble finding the 1610 Spider-Man who was first transported over by them.
Miles Morales is not here. If he was, he would have tried to rendezvous with them by all means.
"Yeah I-I mean I thought he came here first and he's not here--maybe he got lost on the way or something? Like something went wrong with the-the transport machine--"
"The machine don't go wrong!" Lyla answered with a firm tone.
"Look, can you please just focus for now?" Miguel hooked his claws around the policeman who's possessed by Venom and threw him out, while patiently answering:"We'll find your son after this!"
"Haha, very funny...yeah I'd love him to be my son...Mayday would have hell of a brother."
Their conversation reached the ears of those around them word for words, although the vast majority of them didn't care much; the absence of a Spider-Man couldn't have an impact on the whole situation, and besides, for Spider-Man in the 1610 universe ...... maybe he just got caught up in something midway or temporarily went home because of Mom and Dad's request.
That's what almost everyone thinks. Except for Hobie .
"Yo--unbunding-real-ease Spider-Man❶," Hobie asks Peter back after using his electric guitar to fight off the ever-rushing army of Venom and eventually ending the battle by smashing his guitar hard into President Osborn's face:"You said the kid was sent here before you guys?"
"Yeah--what, did you see him?"Peter was equally confused, he didn't know where Miles had gone, he was supposed to be right here--
Hobie didn't answer.
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Miles found Hobie within two hours of arriving in the alternate universe.
The coincidence was almost as if by design - he landed next to a bar, and just as he was struggling with how to find his companion on a completely new world, Miles looked up and happened to see a poster advertising .
The band is playing live, tonight -
The background of the text on the poster is the figure of a man with a guitar.
Even if the hair and clothes are not the same, Miles still recognized at first glance that it was Hobie.
...... Moreover, Hobie Brown's name was printed clearly just below the tagline.
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It was no surprise that Miles was stopped at the entrance to the bar: he couldn't give a valid ID, he didn't look like a 21-year-old adult, and he was wearing a black leotard and looked like he was bleeding from the armpit.
Under the ill-advised gaze of security, Miles had the good sense to turn away --then he chose to climb over the wall. While most people lined up as ruled, he crept through the ceiling and into the entrance, even right above the security guards.
What's up danger?
Miles chose to go straight to the backstage - he didn't want to squeeze through hundreds of people in a frenzy, rocking out to loud music and screaming for attention after Hobie walked on stage - no no. He had to find him before that.
He was lucky. The backstage dressing room, which was incredibly bright and spacious, was the only one Hobie was in.All he gotta do is turned invisible, sneak around that guard looks like he could choke Miles to death, and find Hobie.
Miles didn't hesitate to go up to Hobie and give him a big hug when he saw him. It was really hard for him to contain the excitement of seeing his friend in this strange universe, and he didn't even notice the other person's stiffness and alertness the moment he pressed himself against Hobie's body.
"Wow--man!!! What did you do to your hair?!"
It was only after he struggled to put his feet up on Hobie's shoulders that Miles finally noticed the change in the other man:"Holy--This is-this is like wayyy--cooler, like you just raised the word cool to a whole new level! Your hair, your outfit a-and, is that a new tattoo? Woohoo man--"
Miles looked excited enough that he overlooked countless details he should have noticed, as well as the spider-sense that kept going off from the moment he stepped through the locker room door.
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Hobie Brown, aka the Prowler on Earth-38, had never seen a guy wearing a black suit that looks like he's bleeding from his armpit.
Yet he did. Just now.
Hobie surveyed the stranger who appeared before him with a critical eye; he had sensed it the moment Miles entered the room, but he just wasn't sure how the other man had managed to bypass the security guard and become invisible. He considered releasing the hypnotic gas in his bracelet or just knocking the other man out, but when the prowler saw Miles, who had been released from his invisibility, he changed his mind almost instantly.
The boy who broke into his room was like a deer in a fairy tale, confused, ignorant and naive, and his eyes even glowed with delight at the sight of him for a moment.
Silly kid, he has not yet realized how dangerous it is to step into the range of a predator.
But Hobie liked him. That ignorance didn't hurt the boy's appearance at all. So the Prowler just stared at the other as calmly as he could: "Whacha want?"
"Wow.... . that's a 'warm' welcome."
Miles, on the other hand, was completely unable to comprehend the other man's aloofness. He scratched his head in confusion:"What? Like what are you talking about man--I'm here to help, like the HQ heard you're in trouble so they sent me here --man is there anything you need? You know any trouble?"
The HQ. So the kid was sent by some kind of organization. And from his words, the boy definitely mixed him up with someone he knew.
That's actually kind of interesting.
Prowler Hobie looked at Miles' overwhelmed look and gradually becoming alerted body, he knew what he had to do; it had been a long time since he had produced a mood swing of similar interest in this world.
He noticed the stylized watch on Miles' wrist, spliced with dazzling colors and studded accents, looked very much his style; Hobie the Prowler guessed it was from the other him, the one Miles knew so well.
When Miles finally began to realize that something was wrong, Hobie suddenly reversed his aloofness and became proactive; he approached Miles' direction step by step, and grinned at Miles' involuntary retreat in the process of his approach: "Of course. You came just in time."
Hobie pretended to be carelessly, grabbing one of Miles's wrists, the one with the communicator-watch on; a subtle electric current began to run through his fingers, which Miles didn't notice; he was just relieved that he had found his Hobie:"Okay--So where's your uniform--like, don't you have a job to do? You know, to save your world, protect the people from villains--"
Miles watched in confusion as Hobie smiled, the other man's lip studs shimmering under the reflection of the strong light. That smile caused Miles' spider senses to ring again, constantly warning him of the approaching danger, but Miles still forcefully extinguished the urge to escape; his unexplained trust in Hobie defeated his instinct and his sense, and now, even if the other side had long exceeded the safety line to invade his territory, the muscles of Miles' arms and legs still showed no signs of tightening.
Of course, this does not mean that he did not notice the change in Hobie. For example, Hobie's hairstyle changed, his tousled curls were braided into delicate braided locs, the vast majority of which were tied on top of his head with only a few hanging down on the sides of his face; and his clothing, a little more distinct than Miles usually remembered, white undershirt and black leather jacket with studs, seven-part pants with a zipper underneath; shorts set that are too tight which showing a part of bare waist, and a V line abs--
He looked even more, well, hot.
Miles prayed that he was having this thought simply because he was a teenager and his hormones and mind were in an extraordinarily active state, and not because he was actually attracted to Hobbie.
"My world happens to be...rather safe these days Bambi.”
Miles blinked, habitually ignoring how the other man's calling him, "Really? Coz I swear I saw someone trying to rob a bank on my way here--"
"And you stopped them, eh?" Hobie lowered his head unawares, his whole head almost on the skin of Miles' neck, the thin braid fell down and hit the side of Miles' face. Along with Hobie's hot breath that mixed with the taste of alcohol, spreading on Miles' skin.
All of this made Miles feel uncomfortable. Not physically, what he's saying was, Hobie had been closer to him at a more intimate distance, with more intimate interactions, but never with such intense aggression as today.Like, the moment Hobie came closer to him, Miles wanted to run away, or to fight him, even growl at Hobie just to tell him keep that distance.
The next thing he felt was Hobie pressing closer, his lips almost brushing against his skin as he opened and closed them: "My hero."
It's weird. Miles swore he remembered Hobie saying he hated the name hero. But now was not the time to think about it, so Miles forced down the uncomfortable feeling in his heart:"So what do you need me to do?"
"I need you to be my singer, Bambi. Help me later on the stage."
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As he stood on the stage Miles once again inhaled a deep breath of the burning air of the pub; it wasn't the same help he had first thought Hobie needed; he remembered very clearly Lyla mentioning that he was here to help Hobie with some villains problem, not to take a member of his band's place- but, before Miles had time to refuse or ask questions, Hobie had him firmly pinned to a chair and began to do his makeup; Miles was soon choking and coughing from the numerous powders, and when he came back to his senses, Hobie had already begun to braid his hair.
It was an absolutely amazing experience, Hobie enveloped Miles' entire body, his hair was in Hobie's hands, thus the slightest twist of the neck would tear the scalp; or, if Miles tried to tilt his head back he would hit Hobie's abdomen, the stiffness touch would make Miles' whole body tense up every time. At the same time, the increasing aggressiveness of Hobie's body also made him feel more and more uncomfortable.
Well, eventually, when the guy who looks like Hobie's agent or something appeared at the door to remind them that it was time, Hobie was satisfied to let him go. Finally. Miles had no time to check what Hobie had done to his hair, and he could only tell from the painful tugging of his scalp that Hobie had braided him a few times before he was pulled onstage--
The crowd onstage went into a near frenzy, shaking their bodies to the DJ's street beats, and the colorful, dizzying lights only further ignited the atmosphere; they hissed a name under their breath, and it took Miles a long time to realize they were shouting Hobie's name, but he had just realized something far more frightening than that-- -
"Hey--Hobie! Listen I don't know what you'll be singing!!--I-I'm a terrible singer a-and I never sang in front of more than three people!!"
"'S alright Bambi." Hobie gave a final tweak to the strings of his guitar, waved his arm carelessly towards the stage, and then suddenly jerked Miles to his side:"You just stay pretty and sing whatever you're familiar with. I'll catch up. Promise."
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