You were lazing around in your apartment, the city abuzz beneath your feet. Lights danced through your shutters. Nueva York's sheer volume and velocity damn near shook the floorboards, especially in the nighttime.

However, your still moment was soon interrupted. The sound of your knocker rapidly banging against your door — said unexpected guest not even bothering with the bell — filled the room. You took your time getting up to answer the door.

"Ay, carajo, is anyone home? Anyone?" Miguel's biting, gruff voice suddenly pierced the air. You froze. You recognized that voice. Was that—?

Sure enough, as you opened up the uber-advanced 2099 Ring camera, there he was: Spider-Man 2099, in all his grumpy, six-foot-nine-inches. Clasped in his massive gloved hands was...

…your cat. Your lost cat.

You thought Miguel usually handled the big stuff, like giant symbiote rampages or literal tears in the fabric of society. But nope, there he was, cradling the little bastard fluffball that had darted out your door a few days back.

"Hello?" Miguel hissed out again, this time with more urgency and less patience. "I found this little pendejito eating a Taco Bell burrito out of a dumpster."

He lifted your cat to the camera, the cat's big, dumb eyes and tiny nose filling the feed. "I can hear you tiptoeing around in there. You gonna open the shocking door or not?"