Evolving

Reappearing in this realm meant that Ophelia had to deal with the tools given to her - those tools being simply a body that appeared human, and the ability to transport herself. Gordon’s abilities, manifested in her body, made it all too easy to reappear wherever she needed to go.

Hunting for weeks, she finally got a tip to the location of her targets: SHIELD agents. Wretched individuals who believed that they could take her down, after all they’d done to her. Rage seethed just beneath skin that had once been synthetic, and she had been about to approach them when a face appeared speaking to one of them and she realized who it was, a sick grin gracing her features.

Eve.

A backup machine, of all her design, walking around and interacting with those people. She was beautiful, and utterly perfect in a way that she had once been. She didn’t have the darkness Ophelia craved, however - not the kind that the Darkhold had provided. After watching her for a few days, Ophelia finally felt ready to set a plan into motion - to use this little machine, her little creation, as a way to reach and take down these agents that so filled her with hatred. But she had to play nice, at least until her creation - her daughter - discovered her true purpose. “Oh, I apologize.” She said, purposefully bumping into the woman, sensing machinery in her systems. “I should really look more closely where I walk.” Polite. Simple. Like drawing a moth towards a glowing light ready to zap. 

The dreams had not stopped. Eve had become apprehensive about her charging cycle, for each time she plugged in, the visions appeared. Classrooms. Faces that were familiar and strangers all at once. One face appeared more than any other, a woman’s face, with big, dark eyes and a wide perfect smile. Her hair fell in soft chocolate waves around her shoulders. She seemed so soft -- but there was something sharp about her too. Eve could not explain it. Nor could she explain that longing she felt, each time she awoke and found that she had dreamed once more of the strange woman. 

It made it quite difficult to carry out her duties. Her recharging cycles left her restless, and the older Miles was very particular in his demands. Eve was hurrying back home after her talk with Mr. Coulson, when she felt the bump. At first she was confused -- there had been no warning on her external sensors, she had thought there was room enough for both of them. It was almost as if this person had chosen to bump into her. 

And then Eve looked up at her. 

“Oh,” she whispered, and if she were organic, perhaps a gasp would’ve left her lips. It was her. The woman from her dreams. Standing here in front of her. It was not logical. It was not possible. “Forgive me,” she breathed, realizing she had been staring. “I just -- I was startled. The fault is all mine,” she said quickly. “May I... ask your name?” 

For that was the one thing her dream never revealed. A name. 

A young woman was walking towards him and Phil turned, still slightly unfamiliar with living in a city, or all the people who seemed to know this universe’s version of himself. She looked friendly and he figured he would go through the usual Sorry, not him, nice to meet you, story he’d gotten used to - until the woman recognized almost immediately. He frowned in confusion.

“No, I’m - I’m not.” He said haltingly.Cocking his head to the side curiously, he asked, “how did you know I wasn’t him? Most people can figure out in the first 5 minutes, but,” he gestured to convey that she hadn’t even really spoken to him. “Is it that obvious that I’m not as cool as he seems to be?” He asked with a slight smirk.

Eve laughed lightly, in a way she hoped did not seem cruel. “I do not believe I am a capable judge of what is or is not ‘cool,’” she said. “However, I assure you, you seem very... ‘far out,’ to me.” 

Miles had friends that he left behind when he was taken. Even though he was from another universe, he blended in even better to this world than Jess did, and she’d been here her entire life. She couldn’t find a part of her that was resentful of that fact, though. All it did was add to the guilt that remained within her for bringing her kid – the person she was supposed to take care of – into that mess in the first place. “I’m sorry,” Jess said lowly, looking down at the extra clothes she had brought over, picking at the stray thread coming off one of the sweatshirts. “I brought him there in the first place, too. It barely evens out.” Surely Eve would be able to quantify that, would be able to see objectively that Jess was the reason for Miles’ danger even if she had been able to mitigate it after the fact? Then Eve spoke again, and Jess looked up to meet her gaze. “Guess the feeling’s mutual then,” she said, not entirely willing to take it on herself – but she didn’t want to brush off Eve’s compliment either.

Miles trusted Eve. Usually someone else’s good opinion, despite how close they were, wasn’t enough to combat years of paranoia, but Miles was an exception. Besides, it was easy to trust Eve. She had been nothing but forthcoming since Jess had known her. “You can ask. Asking questions is the only thing that moves us forward, right?” Jess replied. “My parents were scientists. When Mum was pregnant with me, an accident happened in the lab. My DNA was spliced with a variety of different spiders. I got the proportional strength, sticky fingers, enhanced fight or flight, pheromones, and bio-electricity. Concussive force only, as far as I know.” Jess nodded, finding that the grin returned to her face as the conversation continued. “Yeah, Miles is different. He’s … he’s like a son to me.” Jess lifted her shift up slightly to reveal the waistband of her jeans, snapping it against her side. “Elasticated is the way of the future. You can eat all the donuts you want and you don’t feel like you’re being cut in half.”

“Miss Drew, please,” Eve said, stepping forward. She placed her hands over the other woman’s, stilling the nervous movement of her fingers. Her skin was so very warm, Eve felt herself unconsciously adjusting her own external temperature to match. “You should not blame yourself for what has occurred. Miles is very smart, you know, and he has a very big heart. It is impossible to accurately guess at what might have happened had you not allowed him to accompany you on your mission, and yet I feel confident that if you had gone alone, and something terrible had happened to you,” she paused, and inhaled sharply. “Miles would have been distraught. Organics, humans, you tend to blame yourself where there is none to be found. I believe even now, Miles blames himself. If you could both see as I see, you may understand that such actions, while tempting from an emotional standpoint, are not logical. They are not true. Evil actions are the fault of those who willingly commit them. Nothing more,” she said firmly. “I was designed to serve. To protect. I failed my master, and I failed Miles, but blaming myself will do no good to anyone. All I can do is take this experience and use it to teach myself to be better.”

It was one of his favorite sights, watching someone crawl into defensiveness. He couldn’t blame her for this alertness, but he had a hard time holding back his laughter that eventually left his mouth in a reserved snort. Although he could see only half of her face, she still seemed fairly uneasy, to say the least.

If he wanted to let her know there was no reason for such wariness, he would just slide the knife back into the pocket. But, it was a big if. “I preferred to ask,” he claimed with a faint shrug. Leisurely he turned on his heel before glaring over his shoulder. Walking away wasn’t his intention, it was too soon for that.

 “Are you sure?” At this point it was more of a rhetoric question; she didn’t sound like she wanted him to stick around for any minute longer. Not like it was discouraging to him, quite the opposite. “I don’t mean to scare you, but… the streets at this hour are not the safest.”

Perhaps she should have had Mr. Stark repair her emergency protocol systems. 

“Thank you,” Eve whispered. Her eyes were glued to the knife in his hand, but her sensors were on high-alert, tracking his every move as he walked away. Relief washed through her emotional processors -- and then they were seized with fear again when he stopped. 

“I am very sure,” she said, nodding fervently. “I -- I am quite aware that the streets can be dangerous. However...” Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “If you do not mind me saying, sir, you do not seem to be very safe either. Perhaps if you were to put the weapon down, you would not seem so... frightening.”

Ties and strings. Maybe it was a web, but the Darkhold had never really thought of herself as a spider. She was more like a mother. A grandmother. Maybe she was one of those who spent their days knitting sweaters. Only, her sweaters were monsters and magic and chaos, and she weaved them effortlessly. Sometimes, the strings she weaved were more like leashes. She made sure to keep her children and disciples within her range of sight, not physically. She didn’t need to see them in the normal sense, but she always felt them. Her magics had a certain … feel to them, and she recognized her influence.

This one. This child was just a baby, and the Darkhold recognized which one of her disciples had brought her to life, such an excellent specimen, that one. The Darkhold had loved the way things had turned out, even when she had met her relative end. Nothing ever ended. This one would find that out sooner or later on her own. That chaos would be fun.

“No, stay,” said the Darkhold. “Let them fight on their own. The creature is in danger too. Who is to say the person is more important?”

The words were a command such as she had not heard in -- in some time. They were different, even, from her former master’s orders. He had been quick and cold with his demands, but Eve had followed them because she wanted to.

With this woman, it felt more like a need. 

Eve sat beside her, hands folded neatly in her lap. Her eyes gazed out at the battle, emotional processors surging to unimaginable levels. She remembered how it had felt to turn them off, like flipping a switch, and how empty it had left her -- though she had not been aware until they returned. She did not wish to feel that way again, so she averted her gaze, staring instead at the beautiful woman beside her. 

“I was created to serve people,” she explained. It felt as though she did not need to keep her true nature a secret -- or perhaps like she could not. “The creature... the creature is worthy of sympathy, and I do not wish them to come to harm, however -- is there not more value placed upon the lives of humans?”

The girl was whimpering. The Rider found himself almost irritated by this, as he often was when humans experienced such phenomena. The girl wasn’t human, of course — Robbie’s memories told him that much. But her whimpers, cutting through the air with all the panic and fear typically displayed by witnesses to the Rider’s violence, was a human reaction all the same. We saved her, the Rider thought, irritation clear in the words. Yeah, Robbie agreed, but that doesn’t make you any less of a scary son of a bitch. It’s the head on fire shit, man. Freaks people out. 

The Rider let out a low huff of air that one might have almost called a sigh, shaking his head as he let go of the reins to give Robbie control back. He had saved the girl, but he would not remain to comfort her. He’d never known how to do that.

The transformation was already in progress when Eve came back to herself, but even halfway between himself and the Rider, Robbie could see the change in her. The fear she’d been overcome with moments before was gone, but it wasn’t replaced by the cheery air she’d displayed the first time they met. She wasn’t the same happy girl who’d asked to borrow his tools, nor was she the same naive person who’d stepped into an alley and gotten a knife pressed against her throat. She seemed empty, and Robbie felt his chest tighten slightly. I think you fucked her up, he accused, though the Rider seemed unbothered. I saved her life, the Devil pointed out. She is alive. 

(And wasn’t Robbie himself proof  that alive wasn’t always the better option?) 

It took a moment for Robbie to come back to himself fully, and he shook his head and clenched his jaw against the familiar pain of the Rider burning away to leave him back in its place. “I’m fine,” he said, a little less gruff than he might normally have been. “I don’t need any help. You should go home.”

It was much easier this way. 

Her emotions, while pleasant, also contributed to dysfunction. She had allowed herself to become caught up in what truly, were only simulations. A fallacy of emotions, nothing organic or natural about them. She was not organic. She was not natural. She was not designed to be. 

The fires faded, revealing blackened skin that with her emotions might’ve elicited sympathy. Instead, Eve saw this for what it was. A simple process, returning the man to his former state. Much like a system reboot. “You are unharmed,” she concluded, after conducting a thorough scan. She turned towards the pile of ash, already flitting away in the wind. “I cannot say the same for him, however,” she said, turning back to Mr. Reyes. 

There was something off about the girl. Miles clocked it the minute she walked in, saw it written all over her. He’d always been observant — you couldn’t survive on the inside without a little observational skills, and Wilson Fisk certainly didn’t go around befriending idiots who let the most obvious things slide right over their heads. Observation was a survival instinct that Miles was goddamn good at, and right now, those instincts were telling him there was more to this girl than met the eye. Up until about eight seconds ago, the only interest he’d had in the stranger was how she might connect back to his alternate self, but now? Now he found himself curious. 

Miles grinned when she spoke, tilting his head to the side and gesturing to himself. “Well, if this is the home of Miles Morales then I’m in the right place. That’s me. You wanna check my ID?” He made a mental note of everyone she’d listed — herself, his alternate self, and a third resident all crammed into this one apartment? New York rent was one thing that remained the same across dimensions, it seemed. “How about I help you tend to the damage, huh? Think of it as my contribution to this month’s rent. Not sure how long I’ll be stuck in this dimension, but I’ll be needing a place to stay. And you wouldn’t send your very best friend to sleep on the streets, would you?”

Eve was beginning to wonder if she should contact the authorities. Neither Miles nor Miss Drew seemed overly fond of them, given their professions. However, if this man would not leave of his own accord, Eve did not know what other options she would have. Her emergency protocols had not worked properly since the night of the explosion, and truthfully, she was not eager to repair them. She had found that they were only necessary for the kind of life her master had led. Fearful. Dangerous. 

Unexpected. 

Eve blinked at him. “I do not understand,” she said, furrowing her brow. Her emotional processors often mimicked Organic expression, though usually with more deliberation and care than a natural reaction. “You are... from another dimension?” she asked. The possibility was scientifically sound, of course -- and that would explain the commotion that had arisen on the streets. Perhaps it had something to do with her own recent strange ‘dreams’ as well. An increase in inter-dimensional beings could, in theory, affect the electromagnetism in the air, and wreak havoc on her circuitry. Those problems and questions were racing through her processors, but at the forefront of her attention was this. “You are -- also Miles,” she said stepping closer. “I could never harm Miles. He -- you are my very best friend.” It was only logical. It only made sense. “In that case, I must welcome you. Please, sit down,” she said eagerly, gesturing to the couch. “And forgive my rudeness from before. Perhaps I can make it up to you? I am quite good at baking. Miles -- the other Miles -- he says so all the time.”

…What the actual fuck?

Christ above.  The girl was oblivious, utterly oblivious.  Absurdly so.  It was one thing to go up to him and ask a couple questions–that wasn’t the smartest, but it wasn’t out of the realm of reason, even in Gotham.  There would always be those rare few souls that didn’t seem to care much about toeing the line of danger.  

That wasn’t what this was.  This was her apparently being wholly unaware of any sense of danger at all, and not just being coaxed reluctantly, but asking to get into a stranger’s car.  He’d anticipated at least needing to give her a little nudge, but no.  

And, well, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

“…Sure you can, doll.  Come around to other side, yeah?” he suggested as he unlocked the doors to the car.  “I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.”  

Eve beamed at the man and skipped to the other side of the car. The world was not as her master had foretold. He had claimed it was dark and dangerous, and perhaps in many ways that was true. However, Eve had found there was a goodness in the world, and a kindness in strangers. This man, he was a stranger, and he was happy to teach her.

Spiraling into boredom is a greatly uncalled-for state. Too much idleness had the power to drive the Joker to some of the most violent acts, of course, there was also a plethora of miscellaneous factors that could give the first domino a little push. The night is too quiet and the streets are too empty, much to his dissatisfaction. This bothersome stillness even washes the signature smile off of his face as he struts down the pavement, peeking behind every corner in hopes of stumbling upon a living soul.

Whistling a merry tune under his breath, he toys with a shiny flick knife and – in contrary to popular belief – he actually doesn’t plan on putting it to good use anytime soon. It’s more like a stage prop, or a set of keys to jingle on your way home. It keeps his hands busy. And then when he catches a figure with the corner of his eye, a low chortle rumbles at the back of his throat. Finally, some promising entertainment. They better make it worth his precious time.

“You look a little bit lost,” he says and a broad grin twists his red lips. Continuing to fiddle with the blade, his suddenly amused stare fixates on the other, not approaching them yet. “Need a guide? I’ve got a spare moment. Well, slightly more than that.”

Her master had told her the world was frightening. She had not truly believed him until his death. Until her very best friend disappeared for a week. Until a man held a knife to her throat and another had to rescue her with flames and fear. She was determined to be more cautious, to ensure that she would not be put in these situations again. 

That was why, when she saw the stranger, she did not approach him. She stayed very still, just watching him as he moved up and down the alley. He had a knife as well, glinting in the moonlight. She pressed herself into a doorway, hoping that he would move away -- but then he turned towards her. 

“No thank you,” she replied. “I am not lost. I am fine just here. It is kind of you to offer, however,” she said, half her face still hidden behind the doorway. “Please, do not trouble yourself.” 

The chaos caused by the universe ripping open was wonderful. She still heard nothing from Chthon, not even a request to come home, but the Darkhold was fine without him. If anything, he would’ve needed her. She could’ve pulled him back, but he must’ve been a coward, afraid of something in this world. Maybe he should’ve been afraid of her. Because of him, she didn’t even remember her true name anymore. When she’d driven that man mad to retrieve these clothes, he’d asked her for her name, and she only could tell him that she was the Darkhold. Thea Dakhold had been what he repeated back. It was as suitable name as any for her.

Thea Darkhold. She was the one who created monsters on the streets of New York, watching as the super heroes of the city went up against them. She helped some of the heroes. In other battles, she only helped her children, but more often than not, she acted as a spectator. She watched as someone battled a werewolf, and while someone came closer, she patted the spot next to her. “Come watch with me!”

Her charging cycles were full of strange thoughts. She would call them dreams, except she had no programming for dreams. Dreams were an Organic phenomena. They were not logical. She did not dream, but what other explanation was there for the images in her mind? The flashes of faces she did not recognize. The situations she had never experienced. A classroom. Shadows. A logo that seemed octopus-like, and--

And this woman. Eve saw her, and immediately felt something click inside her. She could not explain the sensation, it must have been a by-product of her emotional processors. All she knew for certain was this woman had been in her dreams, but not like this. Not so... human. (The illogical nature of it pointed once more towards dreaming, did it not?) “I -- If you do not mind,” she said softly, walking forward. “Should we help them? That person, they are in danger,” she pointed out, voice small. Yet, while she knew that, her body did not seem to move away from this woman. She was not made of magnetic materials, and yet she swore there was a magnetic pull between them. 

Eve was very busy the past few days. Miles -- the older Miles -- demanded quite a lot from her. Right now, she was on a very important errand, she was fetching his dinner and he had warned her he would not be pleased if it arrived cold. So she was hurrying, and yet, when she saw the familiar face, she could not help but stop. 

“Mr. Coulson!” she called, walking over to him. “It has been too long! How are --” She stopped, tilting her head. Her scans indicated no presence of the technology in his arm. In fact, he seemed to be entirely flesh and bone. Humans did not typically possess regeneration abilities, and thus there was only one logical explanation. “Oh, forgive me. You are not the Mr. Coulson I am familiar with, are you?” 

Shuri had been using her inventions to scan through the city, and while doing so, her little bots noticed that one person had an excessive amount of cybernetics. It wasn’t too abnormal for people to enhance themselves, but that amount made it seem like the person was almost completely robotic. Shuri was more than a little curious. She wondered if the Tony Stark of this world had managed to actually make a robot that wasn’t going to attempt mass extinction and that didn’t require something like a mind stone to allow it to have its own moral compass. Shuri tracked down the person with all the mechanics, and caught up to them before she could lose them again. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” She called after the woman, stopping for a moment to catch her breath before she started walking again. “Can I ask you some things?”

Eve had noticed the small flying devices. They were very advanced, and their design fascinated her. The technology was unlike anything she had ever seen before -- though comparing it to the global database, she determined they were Wakandan in nature. They were very quick as well -- Eve kept trying to catch them, so she could communicate. A part of her hoped for life like her own, more Inorganic beings outside of Miss FRIDAY and the bots in the Avengers Tower. However, every time she got close, the devices flew off, and they did not respond to any of the languages she had tried, even when she translated her speech to Xhosa and then into binary. She sighed softly, and continued on home, but a voice behind her made her stop. “Me?” she asked, glancing around. But it was only the two of them on this part of the street. “Of course! I am Eve Lavenza. I will happily assist you in any way possible. What is your name?” 

Sharon had been about to make a joke about those tendencies running in their family, but Eve was quick to say that the figure of speech didn’t apply here – but the sentiment of it did. Sharon had spent a lot of time with Tony growing up, more than she did with her own parents, it felt like, and how else did you learn things? Imitation. And Sharon had blended a lot of Peggy and Tony while growing up. (A deadly combination, clearly.) “Let’s just hope I don’t catch Wilson’s stupid,” Sharon quipped before nodding her head. 

Clearly, the way that Sharon had phrased it had put Eve on edge, even if it was only slightly – it was noticeable. Another one of those things that Sharon would put on the more human than robot part of the list if she were listing things. (And she was. Silently.) “Give it time, you’ll find something that’ll force you between two logical choices and you’ll have to think with your heart.” Sharon knew that technically, Eve didn’t have a heart. She had circuits that helped her make decisions, but the fact that she felt some attachment to her creator? That she felt something for Tony? The way she reacted to Sharon’s words? There was something more there. Even if Eve didn’t know it or understand it. “I’m not so sure that’s strength,” Sharon confessed. “After all, I’m running away from comparisons.” 

Shaking her head again, Sharon let out a small sigh. “It’s not whether or not it’s easy or difficult – it’s the idea of it in its entirety,” Sharon tried to explain. “For humans – er, organic creatures, memories are what build us into the people we are. The information we know, how we know it, who we interact with… those are all things that make us who we are on some level. It shapes us, all of it. And I don’t want you to have to delete any part of yourself on my behalf.” Which, all in all, was probably the worst idea Sharon had in a long time. It would have been safer for Sharon to have Eve erase all information regarding who she was and her relationship with the Avengers because if that information got out? Even if it was the CIA who found out – there would be hell to pay. And Sharon would be stuck with the bill. “Think of it this way – what if someone made you delete all the information regarding your creator? Wouldn’t that feel wrong?” Sharon questioned before offering Eve another smile. “Thank you.” 

Sharon listened carefully to Eve, to her dreams of family. (Again, something that felt more organic than manufactured.) “Whatever you call him, I think that’s your choice. What you call him says a lot about him and yourself because it shows how you see him. He might not be your father in the technical sense of the word, but you’re not defining him by the definition. Are you?” Sharon asked, the question was innocent enough, but she wondered if Eve would realize what Sharon was seeing here. “She dried your clothes?” Sharon laughed and nodded her head, it probably should have surprised her how gentle Jess could be – but it never did. Jess was good, in every sense of the word. “Do they both know that you’re robotic?” 

Eve frowned, though she could tell Miss Carter was being playful. “I do not think Mr. Wilson is stupid,” she said, shaking her head slowly. It took only seconds for her smile to return, because truthfully, she was also being playful. It was a new protocol she was trying out, one Miss FRIDAY had been explaining to her. Sometimes, Organics were sarcastic, or hid their true emotions behind a false one, usually negative. Eve was not sure her emotional processors were capable of such actions, but she wished to try. 

She laughed, and reached up to her chest, opening the panel there. “I do not have a heart. I have a central processor here, however,” she said, pointing out the appropriate device. It was a small, complicated looking square chip, but it held the bulk of her programming. “I understand your meaning, however. I am not certain that it would be wise to leave such a decision to my emotional processes. Even when both choices are logical, there is always a preferable option. I am well-equipped to compare and contrast the options, and choose the statistically superior.” Eve paused for a minute. “Mr. Wilson also suggested that I might find some semblance of humanity within my programming,” she said, teasing lightly. “Perhaps you are both correct, however, if not I will be happy to be as I am. I am awake, and I am useful. That is more than enough for me,” she said nodding. Her own needs were superseded by those around her, that was her reason for being. “It does not strike me as running away, if you do not mind my saying so. I am a being who depends entirely on those around me, and that is how I was built. You were not built, you were born, and Organic life is able to flourish all on its own. That is a very beautiful thing,” she said softly. 

This was important to Miss Carter, so Eve listened carefully. Her concern was overwhelmingly touching. She had read that humans were likely to ‘pack bond’ with just about anything, but it was something else to experience it. “I suppose that would feel wrong,” she conceded. “My creator is very important to me, and his teachings have shaped who I am. I can understand your concerns now,” she said softly. “I would be entirely different without the memory of him. Perhaps I would be entirely different without the memory of you as well, particularly after this conversation,” she said, a small smile on her face. “However, as a last resort, it is an effective counter-measure. I shall promise not to erase my memories unless I absolutely need to, in order to protect you or any of my other friends. Does that seem like a good compromise?” She nodded once. “You are very welcome. And thank you,” she added. “For explaining things to me, and helping me to learn.”

“That’s true,” Jess replied, “but I’m also more familiar with ignoring those sensitivities.” Getting answers was more important than how she got those answers, at least when it came to her training, and after a while it was almost impossible to distinguish that from her personal life as a whole. Eve mentioned Miles’ ‘ordeal,’ and Jess felt her blood go cold at the memory of it. She had never been so angry, but she’d also never been that terrified. She had faced up against entire armies without flinching, but the second Miles was in danger, she froze where she stood. “He told you about that?” she asked softly instead. “You do seem like you’d be a good listener. Thank you – for being there for him. I try, but …”

What was her argument going to be? That she didn’t have much experience in feelings? She was speaking to Eve, who despite her lack of experience stepped up and did her best regardless. “Believe me, anyone who has them only gets more stupid for it,” Jess replied. She liked to think it wasn’t related to her worst decisions, but the people she’d been in relationships with did have a tendency to convince her she was capable of much better things than she was. “I mean my abilities,” she explained. “It’s not an exact science, but I can secrete a chemical that makes people give into those distractions a little easier.” Jess grinned as Eve laughed, because when she said it out loud it was pretty funny. “Only when it comes to men,” she replied. “Women see these jeans and they’re all over me wanting to know if they have an elastic waistband. It’s the perfect icebreaker.”

Eve smiled politely, but did not comment. Organics and their sensitivities were complicated, and it was not a problem that could be easily solved by logic. It was best left in their own hands, she was only here to serve the needs she could. Like providing someone (something) to listen to them, when they did not wish to burden anyone else. “Yes. He is my very best friend, and when he went missing, I was very concerned,” she said quietly. She shook her head. “No, you have done more for him than I ever could. You were among those who rescued him, were you not? You brought him home. That means a great deal, to him and to me,” she said firmly. “I do not require thanks. However, I am thankful to you, Miss Drew. For that and much more,” she said, smiling softly. 

She did not think that was, strictly speaking, true, but it was funny and so she laughed lightly. “What abilities do you have, precisely? If I may ask,” she said. It would help her to better understand Miss Drew’s needs, and if she understood those, then she would be well-equipped to serve. That was her purpose after all. It was built into her programming. Unlike Organics, who cared because they chose to, Eve knew her desire to be useful was a facet of her being. “A chemical secretion that increases sexual attraction?” she guessed. “I can see how that might be useful. A distracted opponent is far more easier to defeat,” she said, nodding. “You wish to disappoint men, but become closer to women? That is a natural response for many!” she said eagerly. She frowned for a moment. “However, Miles is a man, and you wish to be closer to him, correct? I suppose it is different, though. Familial love is quite different from romantic or sexual love.” She paused. “Do the pants have an elastic waistband?”

The first thing Miles did upon entering the new world was research himself. He figured if this world’s version of himself was anything like him, he’d find Barbara the second he found him. From there, the plan was simple. He had no problem taking out anyone who stood between himself and the woman he loved… even if the person he was taking out was another version of himself. Love was a selfless thing, wasn’t it? When you loved someone like he loved Barbara, not even you could stand in the way.

Unfortunately, things weren’t as simple as he’d hoped. This world’s version of him wasn’t just dead — he was a child. A kid whose mysterious death had rocked the city on its axis… and maybe something a little more complicated than that, too. Because there was a Miles Morales living in New York, and he did look an awful lot like Miles had in his formative years. It was, if nothing else, a starting point. Breaking into the apartment was easy enough, though a bit of snooping didn’t reveal any information about Barbara. Miles was almost ready to give up and try his luck in some other universe when the doorknob rattled and unlocked.

Turning towards the sound, he raised a brow at the girl who entered. Older than this world’s version of him, but not by much. A roommate, maybe? “Well, shit,” he said, easy smile stretching over his face. “I hope you’re not planning on doing anything stupid here. No need to get the cops involved, right? I mean, does it count as breaking and entering if I technically live here?”

Eve was... not feeling well? It did not make sense. She was not an organic, could not be affected by disease or illness. And yet her charging cycle had been restless, disrupted by sensory input that had no source. Visions, she supposed an organic would call them. Flashes of places that felt familiar and yet were unknown to her. A face that sent her emotional processors into a whirlwind. It was like a dream, but she had not dreamed since her first awakening. Her charging cycles were a near total shutdown, keeping only the most vital systems online while the others updated and configured themselves. The problem was not external, but her internal diagnostics revealed no anomalies either. She decided to go see Mr. Stark or Mr. Reyes, however, she wished to inform Miss Drew and Miles before she left, in case the repairs were extensive. 

Neither Miles nor Miss Drew were the ones who greeted her when she opened the door. Instead, there was a man standing there, one she had never seen before. “I am afraid you are mistaken, sir,” she said, examining the broken lock on the door. “You see, this is the home of my very best friend, Miles Morales. It is also the home of Miss Drew, and myself. It is not your home,” she said, frowning slightly. “I apologize if it seems rude, but I must ask you to leave. You have already caused damage that I will have to tend to.”

(✉️ ➡️ not an evil robot): good to hear. (✉️ ➡️ not an evil robot): yeah, emotional distress. i know the other guy’s a fucking nightmare the first time.  (✉️ ➡️ not an evil robot): the guy who came at you in the alley? (✉️ ➡️ not an evil robot): sure. he’ll be fine.