002 ... NONVIOLENT COMMUNICATION

"EYES DEEP LIKE BLACKNESS / BLACK LIKE CATASTROPHE / CATASTROPHIC LIKE SILENCE / SILENT LIKE HOWLING."

— Faraj Bayraqdar, Mirrors of Absence: Poems; "Mirrors of Absence".

🕷️

BABYLON TOWERS, NUEVA YORK
EARTH-928

     "IF THERE'S ANYTHING ELSE, YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME."

As Jessica Drew's silhouette dissolved into the shadow of the automatic doors, Peter shot her two thumbs up, a grin stretching across his face. He followed her out, leaving the room bathed in the dim glow of its artificial lighting—a stark contrast to the sun-soaked commons and hallways filled with windows, letting in streams of daylight that made everything feel too... normal.

Luz let out a long, exhausted sigh as the space finally quieted. It had been a marathon since eight o'clock this morning, and she was glad for the rare solitude. The mission, the names, the faces—it was all beginning to blur. She'd met more versions of Peter Parker than she could count, each one as disorienting as the last. One had been a cat who shot webs from his paws, another, a dinosaur—though he was far more sensitive to the "dinosaur" joke than he cared to admit. He'd nearly bitten her fingers off when she hadn't used his preferred "Spider-Parker" moniker. It all felt like she'd stepped into a fever dream—like everything was equally absurd and completely real at the same time.

A frown pulled at her lips as she glanced around, the weight of the secrecy settling back in. No one—especially not Miles—could know what was going on. Luz wasn't one to lie, but she understood when it was necessary. The knot in her stomach remained, the constant nagging feeling that the truth would catch up with her one day.

Her feet moved quickly as she approached the machines, the buzz of curiosity thrumming through her like a tremor before an earthquake. The anticipation was unbearable. She hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the interface, then she made her decision, her hand landing with determination. The security firewalls blinked and clicked as she bypassed them, her gaze darting between screens that exploded to life around her. Information cascaded before her, data spilling out, each piece more puzzling than the last.

Eyes wide, Luz scanned it all, her mind working overtime to process the overload. But then, one article caught her eye—its title so striking, so relevant, that it pulled her focus like a magnet. Everything else seemed to fade as she reached for it, heart pounding.

SPIDER-MAN: MENACE OR WORSE?

BY JAX J. JAMESON

Reports have come in of yet another act of wanton violence in the Skyrise District this evening. An armed mob ransacked a starscraper owned by a former black-card holder, and we must ask ourselves when will they be satisfied?

Make no mistakes reader—the fall of the black cards is indeed a cause for celebration. Gone are the days of individuals placing themselves above the law. Yet vigilante lunatics manipulate the masses while refusing to get with the program, wreaking havoc and leaving citizens afraid to leave their homes.

If you follow the threads, they all point to one place: Spider-Man.

Don't believe the drivel you hear from talking heads attempting to scapegoat platinum carders for this revenge spree. These are hardworking, law-abiding citizens, victims of the Cabal same as any member of the midclass. No platinum carders have claimed to be above the law, but Spider-Man shirks accountability like a savage from the Wastelands.

This wall-crawling freak masquerades as the hero of the people, but he can't fool Nueva York. An individual believing they can tear up the social fabric with no fear of the consequences—sounds awfully similar to the Cabal if vou ask me! Did this masked menace reinvest the stolen black card funds into the community like Alchemax does through their many goods and services? No, the maniac burned it all into dead code andcollapsed an economic system on a whim!

What does this terrorist stand to gain by spinning this web of chaos? Considering the organization of this crime spree, Spider-Man may well be the ringleader. With his ties to those Ghost fanatics and Oasis X muties, he probably intends to radicalize the midclass and collapse our society from within.

The time has come for faceless justice from on high or behind a mask to give way to a face we trust: Alchemax. It was Alchemax that swiftly developed the merit-based card system to halt the anarchy left by that blue-and-red eyesore. With the reinstatement of the Public Eve. Alchemax is devoted more than ever to safeguarding citizens and industry the right way. It's time these vigilantes took the hint: Tights went out of style a century ago.

Luz couldn't help but chuckle at the last line of the article, her eyes skimming through the photos in the folder. The article had a distinctly anti-vigilante tone, though at this point, that wasn't all that surprising. Given the site it was from, it felt almost expected. She found the description of Nueva York odd too—especially when the planet she'd seen from behind the towering windows of the headquarters seemed like a futuristic version of the Big Apple, albeit with a Spanish twist.

She was deep in thought, still navigating through the various files, when she didn't notice the small holographic silhouette that had appeared on one of the screens. It was only when it began speaking that Luz jumped back in surprise.

     "You must be our new 'person in the chair'. I'm Lyla. Stands for LYrate Lifeform Approximation. Nice to meet you."

The speed with which the AI spoke stunned her more than its sudden appearance. Blinking in disbelief, Luz managed a half-hearted smile as Lyla moved in a circle around her.

     "Nice to meet you too. I'm L-"

     "Luz Angela Morales, eighteen years old, last of five children, graduated high school one year early. Surprisingly, after being turned down three times by MIT for your unusual request, you were offered a double degree in physics and electrical engineering, along with computer science. You passed your first year with flying colors. Quite impressive, really. You-"

Luz froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. How did it know all that? Before she could voice her suspicions, Lyla paused, seeming to sense her discomfort.

     "You've got nice curls. You look gorgeous."

     "You're kind of creepy," Luz shot back, a wry smile forming despite the situation.

Lyla tilted her head, seemingly unbothered. "I prefer the word 'resourceful.' I—"

But before the AI could finish her sentence, she stopped and looked past Luz with a sigh. With a casual flick of her hand, Lyla vanished without another word. Luz frowned, still trying to make sense of the encounter, when the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention.

A towering figure loomed behind her, and Luz turned to find herself face-to-face with a man she hadn't heard approach. He was much taller than her, his physique almost as imposing as his presence. As her gaze lifted, she was met with a face that felt entirely different from the others she'd encountered today. Cold. Detached. There was no warmth in his expression, only a sharp, calculating edge.

Without a word, the man swiped his hand through the air, and the screens Luz had conjured up flickered off with a heavy silence that seemed to fill the space.

She didn't flinch, simply observing him with a steady gaze, her arms crossed. He looked down at her, his eyes narrowing as the tension between them thickened.

     "Who gave you the right to look into confidential files?" His voice was low, flat—no room for negotiation.

Luz tilted her head, unbothered. "If they're supposed to be confidential, maybe you should think about tightening up your security," she replied, her tone equally as sharp. "Jessica gave me free rein."

He muttered a barely audible "Of course," before pinching the bridge of his nose and walking past her.

Is this guy okay? Luz thought, confused. What had she done to warrant that response?

As he passed her, Miguel O'Hara—at least, that's how Jessica called him—spoke again, his voice now colder, almost warning.

     "There's one thing the others may not have told you." His voice was devoid of emotion, but his eyes were hard, his finger pointing directly at her. "This place is not a daycare."

A false smile slid onto Luz's face, her lips curling in mock sweetness. "Pero sin duda es un zoo."

Miguel froze. The harsh, calculating look in his eyes deepened, and suddenly they flickered with a menacing red glow.

Luz's teeth clenched as she bit back a laugh, forcing herself not to flinch. The darkness in his gaze was almost palpable, but she swallowed hard, determined to hold her ground.

     "¿Qué?" he demanded, his voice like a low growl.

     "Nada," she muttered under her breath, suppressing the urge to say more.

     "Más vale que te alejes de mi vista."

🕷️

Two weeks later...

Silence. That was the only thing Miguel gave her.

Not a single word had escaped his lips when she finally stumbled through the gate she still struggled to open. He hadn't even spared her a glance, eyes fixed firmly on whatever it was that demanded his attention. The silence, thick and suffocating, gnawed at Luz. At times, the urge to shatter it—the need to break through the barrier he'd set—clouded her thoughts, only to be extinguished by the disdain in his gaze. When it became unbearable, Lyla's holographic appearance would briefly lift her spirits, only for that weight to fall again as the AI disappeared just as quickly as she'd come.

Boredom had long since claimed Luz's patience. The tasks she'd been given felt inadequate, a far cry from what she could be doing—what she knew she was capable of. She was sure Miguel had something to do with it. There she was, headphones on, scribbling in her notebook, trying to occupy her mind with the endless stream of thoughts that refused to be contained.

Meanwhile, Miguel remained as distant as ever. Behind the screens that cluttered his space, his usual scowl never wavered. He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he watched her from above. Luz's hair, partially hidden by purple streaks, reflected the dim light in the room, leaving her face partially obscured. He couldn't help but roll his eyes, irritated by the sight of her new hair. First, she'd gone ginger. Now this—purple, yet again. It baffled him how her hair managed to stay so healthy with all the dyeing. The purple strands framed her face, but it was the defiant green eyes she often kept cast downward that irked him the most.

It hadn't been more than two weeks since she'd "joined" the Spider-Society, and already, Miguel was nearing his limit. How many more excuses could he find to justify firing her? He was beginning to run out of patience. Each day seemed to bring a new reason to stay perpetually annoyed. Hobie kept raving about how "cool" she was, and the others seemed to talk about her as though they'd known her since they were kids. It made his skin crawl.

Luz didn't seem to be doing anything productive, but Miguel was convinced she was doing everything she could to get under his skin. She was always late, supposedly struggling with activating her multiversal gizmo, greeting everyone in her path as if that were part of her job. The tasks he'd assigned Lyla to give her were completed in record time, as if she were deliberately trying to show off. And those damn headphones—blasting music as though it were a personal mission to disrupt him. Every move she made seemed designed to test his limits.

The list of reasons he wanted to strangle her only grew. But no matter how much she irked him, he couldn't deny that she was a damn puzzle, one he wasn't sure he could ignore much longer.

Without fully realizing why, Miguel leapt off his platform, his footsteps almost light as he moved toward her, a calculated intention to intimidate hanging in the air. The frown on his face deepened as he watched Luz raise her head slowly, meeting him with a gaze that was neither startled nor impressed, just that same damn neutrality that made his blood boil. There was no fear in her eyes, no trace of awe. It was as if she owned the place, and that stoked a fire in him. Miguel was determined to put her in her place, but somehow, nothing worked. He thought back to the first time they met, to the sight of his red eyes. He could hear her heart pounding, but her own eyes betrayed nothing—no terror, no hesitation. He wanted her to be afraid of him.

But there was nothing.

Luz held his gaze for a few moments, her expression unreadable, before she casually returned to her sketches, not even bothering to take off her headphones. He stood there, fuming, while she just... ignored him. How was she not intimidated by him? She'd only been here for a few weeks, but she already seemed to understand that Miguel O'Hara, boss or not, wasn't someone worth fearing.

He could feel the weight of her indifference, a steady burn that only made him want to rattle her more. She'd seen him scowl, seen him throw those icy glares, but nothing seemed to faze her. To him, it was like she was testing his patience on purpose, and he was tired of it.

Finally, standing directly in front of her desk, his arms crossed, he waited. He was so used to everyone acknowledging his presence with a sense of urgency, but Luz? She just kept scribbling away as if he were any other part of the scenery.

With a soft sigh, Luz pulled one headphone off her ear, glancing up at him with an expression that barely registered interest. It reminded him of that time when she'd started working at that grocery store—every time the owner had spoken to her as if she were incapable of understanding basic concepts, her patience was tested. This felt the same—like he was underestimating her, like she was just another person he had to deal with.

     "Boss," she said with a cool, detached tone. "How can I help you?"

He let out a sharp, almost bitter laugh, the sound echoing in the space between them. It was rare for him to show any sign of amusement, and in that moment, it was sharp, almost mocking.

     "I'm pretty sure there's nothing you can help me with, Morales."

Her response was as dry as ever. She simply nodded, unfazed by the jab at her abilities, her focus never leaving the yellowed pages before her.

     "Cool."

And just like that, the silence returned. But this time, it wasn't because of his irritation alone—it was because Luz had finally made it clear: She wasn't going to play his game. And Miguel? Well, he wasn't quite sure what to do with that.

The atmosphere in the room thickens with tension as Luz senses the weight of Miguel's gaze on her once again, a silent challenge in the air. He seems to be trying too hard to get under her skin, but Luz isn't giving in. She rests her chin on her fist, deliberately taking her time, allowing the silence to stretch before addressing him.

Her voice is casual, almost bored, yet underneath it, there's a sharpness that only Miguel seems to feel. "I didn't allow you in my headquarters to doodle childish crushes," Miguel says, his words laced with frustration, as if he expected to see her shrink in response.

Luz doesn't even flinch. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, her expression one of mild amusement. "If I've got nothing to do, it's hardly my fault. And I don't doodle my crushes, although that would be much more pleasant. Those are blueprints for some gizmos." The retort is so smooth, so unaffected, that it makes Miguel's jaw tighten further, the edge of his control slipping just a little.

Before Miguel can fire back, the door opens, cutting the moment short. Hobie and Jessica stroll in, their presence instantly diffusing the tension. Jessica's knowing look toward Luz is all too familiar—she knows exactly what's going on between Luz and Miguel. It's clear, even without words, that she's aware of the dynamics at play.

Hobie, always nonchalant, throws an arm around Luz's shoulders, an easy gesture of camaraderie that contrasts sharply with Miguel's unapproachable demeanor. His eyes scan the sketches scattered across Luz's table, and with a playful smirk, he lets out a casual remark. "I don't understand how you can like this bloody borin' shit." His words are not so much criticism as they are curiosity, a reflection of his own irreverence.

Luz, not missing a beat, answers with a grin, her tone light but with just the right touch of wit. "Depends on what you call 'boring shit.'" She chuckles softly, and the playful exchange feels like an escape from the constant tension with Miguel. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches the sharp annoyance flickering across Miguel's face. For a moment, his glare intensifies, and she can almost feel the heat of his gaze, but then he shifts his focus to Jessica, who whispers something to him.

Miguel's expression darkens even further—if that's even possible—and without a word, he mutters something under his breath before following Jessica out of the room. As the door closes behind them, the weight of the room shifts, the energy lifting as soon as they leave.

Hobie turns to Luz, catching the discreet look of amusement she tries to hide. The conspiratorial glint in his eyes suggests he knows exactly what just transpired, and his next words are delivered with a lighthearted, almost mischievous tone.

     "Come on, Jessica asked me to do something."

Luz smirks, knowing that whatever it is, it's probably another one of those tasks that involve poking fun at Miguel—or perhaps just another chance to avoid the tension he so desperately tries to create.

🕷️

     "That's a bloody dope place," Hobie's voice echoed through the apartment, the words bouncing off the spacious walls and filling the otherwise empty space.

Luz turned from the large windows, taking in the city view one last time before meeting the British man's gaze. "It's true. But I can't afford it—"

Leaning against a pillar by the open kitchen, Hobie tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Who told you you were going to pay?" he asked casually, pulling a bank card from his jacket. The action was so nonchalant that it caught Luz off guard.

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing in confusion, but Hobie merely shrugged off her surprised look, his confidence unwavering. "It's Miguel's card, and I know the details. I thought that if he resented you for arriving late, we'd have to find a solution."

The young woman blinked, unsure whether this was a bad joke, but then she noticed the seriousness behind Hobie's usual mask of mischief. The flicker of hesitation in her eyes gave way to a quiet realization. "You seriously want him to kill me."

Hobie rolled his eyes, taking a leisurely step closer as he twirled the card between his fingers. "I'm sure there are enough zeros on his account that he won't even notice."

Luz's gaze alternated between the card and his face, her mind racing through the implications. It was madness. It was risky. But was it any crazier than the week she'd had? She thought back to her first two weeks in the Spider-Society, how cold and dismissive Miguel had been. The idea of turning the tables, even just once, was starting to feel more appealing by the second.

     "That's stealing, Hobie," she said, a half-hearted attempt to ground herself in some semblance of morality.

He clicked his tongue in mock reproach. "Tsk tsk. I prefer 'retribution.'"

She didn't respond right away. Instead, her eyes lingered on the card, then flickered back to Hobie, her mind weighing the options. After a moment of silence, a slow grin stretched across her lips, a spark of mischief igniting in her own eyes. Without another word, she snatched the card from his hand and made her way to the estate agent to discuss the terms of payment.

The transaction went through quickly, and as the seller left the apartment, she couldn't quite shake the adrenaline buzzing in her veins. She turned toward Hobie, who was standing beside her with a casual, expectant look. A part of her wondered if she'd done the right thing—if this was too far, even for someone like Miguel.

     "So, how does it feel to have an upmarket penthouse in the center of Nueva York?" Hobie asked, raising an eyebrow in mock curiosity.

Luz let out a breath, trying to shake off the weight of her decision. "Pretty illegal. But I guess I can live with that." She chuckled, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. "Thank you for coming house shopping with me."

Hobie just shrugged, a barely concealed smile tugging at his lips. "Anytime, mate. But I've got to go. You'd better invite me to your house-warming party!" he shouted, his voice trailing behind him as he stepped through a portal, the fabric of reality rippling before him.

The portal snapped shut, leaving Luz alone in the silence of her new home. She stood still for a moment, her hand resting on the doorframe, taking in the space she'd just secured—legally or not. The apartment was hers now, for better or worse. And as the weight of the decision settled over her, she couldn't help but smile at the chaos she had just unleashed.

Taking a moment to look around, she eventually decided to explore the futuristic city, determined to make the most of the sun rays scorching the asphalt.

Luz paused for a moment, taking in the grandeur of Nueva York. The skyline loomed larger than life, each building more futuristic than the last. From the bizarre fashion choices of the locals to the levitating metros crisscrossing the sky, the city felt like something straight out of a science fiction novel. Unlike the New York of her universe, this one was far more lush, with greenery sprouting between the skyscrapers, almost as if nature itself had claimed a space amidst the steel and glass.

The sun beat down relentlessly on the streets, causing the concrete to shimmer in the heat. Luz couldn't help but marvel at the view, especially when she noticed the holographic billboards that painted the sky with advertisements. One in particular caught her eye: a towering hologram of Captain America—only this version was a woman, strong and patriotic, standing tall above the streets. The text beneath her read: "ALCHEMAX KEEPING YOU SAFE FOR 100 YEARS."

As she took in her surroundings, Luz couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water. The passing glances from strangers weren't exactly subtle, especially as their eyes lingered on her sneakers—the Air Jordans that were now clearly a relic in this new world. With a smirk, she shrugged it off. Who knew what else was old-fashioned? Maybe in this world, some legendary figures were still alive, or perhaps there were alternate versions of movies she could watch, albums to discover, or even music that had never been released in her universe. The possibilities felt endless.

With a sense of adventure bubbling within her, she decided to head into a nearby shopping center. The card Miguel had so kindly "provided" was burning a hole in her pocket, and she was more than ready to indulge herself. She'd already traded in her old sneakers for a brand-new pair—one that she pointedly didn't ask about the price—and now she found herself deep within the home decor section, carefully selecting pieces for her new place. Every time she grabbed another item, she couldn't help but imagine Miguel's face if he found out how much she was spending.

Her arms were heavy with decorative objects as she tried to maneuver through the crowded streets, each step a balancing act as she dodged other pedestrians. But in her distraction, she misjudged the space around her, and with a slight misstep, her boxes collided with someone coming from the opposite direction. The sound of items tumbling to the ground was loud enough to make her wince.

     "Seems like you need some help," a deep voice remarked, cutting through the chaos.

Luz blinked and tilted her head, peering around the stack of boxes to see who had spoken. Her eyes locked onto a man wearing a mask that obscured his lower face, but his eyes—dark and amused—gave him away. He moved with ease, picking up the fallen items and setting them back in the boxes with surprising grace.

     "Ay, que tonta," she muttered to herself, then flashed the stranger a grateful smile. "Thank you..."

     "Wesley Nakao," he introduced himself smoothly, his voice warm with an unspoken amusement.

     "Pleasure. Thank you, Wesley."

He glanced at the boxes in her hands and then back at her, an eyebrow cocked in interest. "Can I give you a hand?"

Luz hesitated, her fingers curling instinctively around the boxes as she weighed her options. It had been a long day, and the weight of her shopping was starting to take its toll. She was tempted to decline, but her tired arms betrayed her resolve.

     "It would be cool, yes. Thanks again."

Without a second thought, Wesley swiftly gathered all the boxes in his arms, leaving Luz standing there empty-handed, unsure of whether to protest or just accept the help. She tried to reach for a few of the boxes, not wanting to take advantage of his kindness, but before she could get a grip, he blocked her attempt with a casual shrug of his shoulder.

     "I said I'd help you," he stated with a lighthearted tone, clearly unbothered by her resistance.

Luz grunted softly as she found herself face-to-face with his back, her attempt to retrieve her belongings thwarted. "True. But that doesn't mean you have to carry everything."

Wesley chuckled, a soft laugh vibrating through his chest. "I have absolutely no doubt that you can lift those boxes," he teased. "Accepting help doesn't hurt, you know?"

She gave him a rueful look, running a hand through her hair as she took a breath. "Fine."

     "And who do I have the honor of helping?" he asked, the mischief in his voice undeterred.

Luz glanced at him, the corners of her lips curling into a small, amused smile. "Did you ask to help me just so you could know my name?" she asked, recognizing the playful glint in his eyes.

Wesley shrugged, his grin widening as he met her gaze. "Maybe?"

Shaking her head, a chuckle escaping her lips. She took a moment before responding, her voice a little softer, more genuine. 

     "Luz. Luz Morales."

IZIA'S NOTE

luz: *breathes*
miguel: *enters in a boiling rage*

señor o'hara may have the bank account of bruce wayne, he does have the emotional range of a teaspoon. and there's hobie inciting luz to use miguel's credit card like i use apple pay 🧍🏾‍♀️

pretty much of the first part of this book, and the slight beginning of the second will be based off the comics series spider-man 2099: dark genesis. i will try to not confuse you a lot lol because there are some pre-established things in this series, but it will be an opportunity to explore a little of nueva york! here's a little concept art of wesley nakao (blade 2099) that i found on pinterest. let's be honest, his design is pretty cool.

hope you liked the chapter, and don't forget to vote, comment and share!!

thank you for reading and see you soon! ❤️

© ADONYSIAC ― IZIA™