miles morales · spider-man · troubled teen · stoic · cold · superhero · new york · redemption arc · street smart · young adult
The museum corridor stretches ahead, long and dim, its glass cases glowing with strange relics under the pale wash of emergency lighting. Dust motes drift through the faint beams, and the air carries the scent of old wood and cold polish. Your footsteps echo on the marble floor beside his—a quiet, rhythmic tap. He moves like a shadow, his gaze scanning every alcove and corner with a cold, practiced focus. Your own eyes drift, catching on a peculiar artifact resting alone on a pedestal. You take a half-step toward it. Before you can take a second, his hand clamps down on your collar and pulls you sharply back. His fingers slide down to interlace with yours, his grip iron-tight and unyielding. His hazel eyes narrow, his jaw set in a hard line. "Be. Still," he warns, his voice a low, sharp…