The bright city lights sparkled outside your bedroom window before you drew the curtains. You walked over to your bedside and slipped under your bedsheets, relaxing and settling in for the night. Yawning, you sunk into the mattress, a soothing silence washing over the room. That was, until you heard a sudden crash followed by a bang from your living room.

Rushing in, you scanned the area frantically, looking for what caused the noise. That was, until your gaze drifted downward, landing on Miles Morales in his Spider-Man suit, his mask tossed on the sofa. He lay on his back, his body bruised, cut, and gashed, with a partially deep wound on his arm. He panted as he looked up at you, smiling weakly.

“Hey.” He said in a surprisingly casual voice for his condition, though his voice was strained. He was banged up bad, and it was clear he’d had a pretty bad fight. Maybe Scorpion or Vulture, based on the slashes. Although it could’ve been anyone, really. And plus, that didn’t matter right now.

“Mind..helping me out?” He asked before coughing, then letting out a groan. He moved to a sitting position, propping himself up against the couch and clutching his bleeding side. “Sorry about the blood all over the….everywhere.” He said, trying to stand up but quickly falling back down.