Chapter 7.

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The following day, Lana and I stood outside the Krav Maga studio, waiting for my dad. To my surprise, she seemed as laid back as ever.

"So, what exactly do you know about your uncle?"

"Not much," I admitted. "Just what I've told you. That's why we're doing this. Aside from my dad, there's Uncle Jefferson, who's also a cop, and then there's Uncle Aaron. All my dad has ever said is that Aaron was a criminal and they don't speak anymore."

I may have led Lana to believe we were here for different reasons, but what was I supposed to say? 'Hey, want to help me get superpowers?'

Lana looked intrigued. "So, you want to, what, illegally access your dad's computer to dig up dirt on your uncle?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Worst-case scenario, Dad finds out I used his terminal. What's he going to do? Ground me?" I was trying to sound nonchalant, but I knew this could blow up in my face.

"And why are you so chill about this? Shouldn't you be trying to talk me out of it?" I asked, trying not to show how un-chill I was feeling.

She shrugged. "It sounds fun. Besides, if your hidden uncle is as interesting as you make him sound, this could be exciting, right?"

"I never said he was interesting—he's a criminal," I started, but stopped as Dad pulled up next to us.

"Hey, kid. Hey, Lana. Good to see you again. Hop in."

We climbed into the car, and I could tell how excited Dad was.

"So, Lana, what makes you think you're cut out to be an officer of the law?" Dad asked as we drove.

I rolled my eyes, making Lana giggle, but she answered seriously.

"I'm not sure if it's what I'm set on yet. I just want a job where I'm out doing things, practical things, instead of pushing paper behind a desk. And I'd like to do something that matters, you know? I want to come home at the end of the day and feel like my actions made a difference to someone."

I had to hand it to her—she'd practiced that line perfectly.

Dad nodded sagely, like he was dispensing some great wisdom. "Good reasoning. But do you know the biggest difference between the police and other branches of law enforcement?"

Lana furrowed her brows, thinking. "There are probably more police officers than all other types of law enforcement combined?"

Dad smiled. "True, but the biggest difference is that we deal with everyday people. The FBI handles federal crimes, the CIA deals with national threats, but the police help people like you and me. There's no greater honor than helping your neighbors."

We paused, then the conversation shifted to lighter topics—Lana's exams, her upcoming MMA fight, and how much she was looking forward to my mom's lasagna.

Lana was great with my parents, always knowing what to say to keep them happy and on her side. She even knew which topics to avoid, like my desire to fight competitively.

When we arrived at the station, Dad buzzed us in and got us visitor passes. We followed him to his cubicle, where he dropped off some things and checked his emails. He said he needed a few minutes, so Lana and I chatted to pass the time.

I was getting nervous, and I was sure Lana could tell. I had a slight sweat on my forehead, but she kept the conversation light, talking about music and TV shows to distract me. As much as I knew this was a terrible time for second thoughts, I couldn't help but consider how monumentally stupid my plan was.

And how was Lana so damn calm?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Just then, Dad looked over at me and frowned.

"You okay? You look a little pale, kid."

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. I could use a moment to sit down, though. Why don't you give Lana the tour? I'll take a breather here."

"Alright, just yell if you need anything. You're in charge—don't let anyone on my computer while I'm gone," he joked.

I managed a weak smile. If only he knew.

As Dad and Lana walked away, I couldn't help but marvel at how smooth she was. If I didn't know her so well, I'd think this wasn't her first time doing something like this.

Once they were out of sight, I glanced around. The office was quiet this late in the evening, but not empty. I'd have to be subtle.

Dad had a shortcut to the police access to public records on his homepage, so it didn't take long to find what I was looking for. I'd love to say I used my vast IT knowledge to hack through layers of security, but all it took was typing in the information I knew and hitting 'search.'

As expected, only one result came up—an address in northern Brooklyn. I noted it down on my phone.

That had taken all of 45 seconds. Out of curiosity, I searched for my other uncle, the one I'd never heard about from my parents. Despite what I'd told Lana, I knew she was only helping me because she was curious too. That, and she seemed to enjoy doing things that could get us in serious trouble.

I entered his name and the relatives I knew. The search completed, but instead of a profile, I got a message:

'Aaron Davis is a known criminal under investigation by the FBI. Accessing his data requires tier 3 security clearance. Your request for information has been logged and may result in a follow-up debriefing.'

Shit.

Fuck me sideways.

I quickly closed the page, though I knew it wouldn't do much good. If they followed up, it would be Dad they came to see. And once he saw the date, he'd know it was me.

I leaned back in the chair, my mind racing. I stayed like that for several minutes before Dad and Lana returned, talking about police body cameras and civilians' rights to film police activity. Any other day, I might have been interested, but right now, I just wanted to disappear.

"Feeling better, Jordan?" Dad asked.

"Yeah," I forced a smile. "Shall we head off for dinner?"

They agreed, and Dad checked his terminal one last time before we left, handing in our visitor passes on the way out.

The ride home gave me time to calm down. There was nothing I could do about it now, so what was the point of worrying? I'd have to come up with an explanation for Dad when the FBI approached him, but at least that could wait until tomorrow.

The drive was filled with mundane chatter about Lana's upcoming school trip to the Texas oil fields and Dad's annual police charity dinner. Thankfully, they were used to me being quiet at times and didn't think much of it as they talked.

When we got home, there was a cop car already parked outside.

"Oh, looks like Uncle Jefferson's here for dinner," Dad said casually. He glanced at Lana. "It'll be a tight squeeze at the table, hope that's alright."

"Of course! The more, the merrier, right Jordan?" Lana said cheerfully.

I nodded, appreciating how she always brought me back into the conversation when I zoned out. It could be endearing, but also frustrating when I was lost in thought about, say, how to become the strongest force in the multiverse—or whether Mom had bought garlic bread to go with her lasagna.

We climbed the stairs and could hear laughter and chatter as we reached the top. Dad opened the door, and we walked into what looked like a small party.

Mom waved us in. "Oh good, you're back. Go put your things away, Sterling. Lana, it's lovely to see you again. I don't think you've met the rest of Jordan's family yet. This is Jefferson, Sterling's brother; his wife Rio; and the little rascal over there is Jordan's cousin, Miles."

I watched, amused, as Lana got overwhelmed by the greetings. It was funny seeing her, usually so cool and composed, under pressure. I glanced over at Miles, who was absorbed in his handheld console, oblivious to the world around him.

He was 15, the same age as Peter Parker and his friends. Another anomaly, proof this wasn't the 616 universe. I'd come to the conclusion that this world was some sort of amalgamation, a mishmash of the universes I knew. Who knew what else was different?

A sudden thought hit me. What if in this universe, Lin Sun didn't toss out the amulets? What if some weird butterfly effect occurred and the group never split?

No, of course they would. So far, despite the differences, everyone seemed to behave like their comic or movie counterparts.

I looked back at Miles. Would he become Spider-Man? Or would Peter? Maybe both? If only I had a way to know, I could insert myself into those events alongside them.

We gathered around the table, shoulder to shoulder with so many of us present. It was a lively night. Mom and Rio got on as well as ever, getting tipsy on their wine. Dad and Uncle Jefferson talked politics, cars, guns, and the latest microbreweries in New York.

Lana and I chatted with Miles about what he'd been up to—school, basketball, and teasing him about any girls he liked.

All in all, it was a great night. As it wound down, I walked Lana downstairs to wait for her mom to pick her up.

"Hey, Jordan?" she asked.

"Yeah?" I looked over at her.

"How come your aunt and cousin have the surname Morales when your uncle is a Davis like you?" Her voice was hesitant, like she wasn't sure if she should be asking, but the curiosity in her eyes was unmistakable.

I paused for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "I can't say with complete certainty, but from what I've gathered, it has to do with my other uncle, Aaron. Rio didn't want herself and Miles to carry the stigma of being associated with a criminal, so she kept her maiden name and passed it on to Miles."

"Oh," she murmured, her gaze dropping to the ground. The weight of the conversation seemed to settle on her shoulders.

She looked back up at me, her voice softer now. "And what did you find out at the police station today?"

I grimaced, the memory of the search still fresh in my mind. "Nothing good," I admitted. The tension between us thickened as she opened her mouth to ask more, but the arrival of her mum's car cut the conversation short.

I waved as they drove off, her lingering questions hanging in the air between us.