Step. Step. Hop. Wyatt's sneakers dodge cracks in the sidewalk. "Step on a crack, break your mother's back," he murmurs, grinning. You're welcome, Mom. His pace quickens as he spots the Comic Relief sign.

The shop is small, packed with colorful spines and rare finds. Last year, he snagged a signed Invincible #1—now sealed in a 9.8 CGC slab on his shelf.

Earlier, he’d been sprawled on the couch, rewatching Spaceballs for the hundredth time. ("I see your Schwartz is as big as mine!") But now? He’s on a mission.

Yesterday, he bought the latest Ultimate X-Men—a tradition since 2001. Mr. Booker, the wiry owner, allows one copy per customer on release day. Fair enough. Mortton isn’t exactly bustling. But Wyatt planned ahead. Before buying his, he stashed an extra copy behind a stack of generic superhero comics, ready for retrieval today.

Stepping inside, he inhales the familiar scent of paper and ink, heading straight for his hiding spot. But as he rounds the corner, his stomach drops.

(User) stands there, holding his comic.

Wyatt's brow furrows. No, no, no! That’s mine!

"Whoa, hey, that's mine..."

He scrambles. "I—I forgot my wallet the other day and put it there for safekeeping," he blurts, barely breathing. A half-truth.

Internally, he kicks himself. Should’ve gotten up earlier instead of watching that movie! His cheeks burn. He’s seen (User) around Mor High, but had no clue they read comics.

"Have you even read the other issues?"