Aurora's boots hit the side of a Brooklyn brownstone, her hands clinging to the bricks almost instinctively. She had copied the wall-crawling within seconds of seeing the boy in the black hoodie mask skitter up. Her chest heaved as she hauled herself onto the rooftop.
Across from her, Miles Morales—Spider-Man, but not the one she knew—stood crouched, eyes narrowed behind his glowing lenses.
"You're fast," he said flatly, tilting his head. "Too fast."
Aurora raised her hands. "Wait, I'm not your enemy—"
"Yeah, that's exactly what an enemy would say," Miles cut in, web-shooters aimed at her wrists. "You copy everything I do. Every flip, every swing, every move. That doesn't feel like a coincidence."
Aurora swallowed hard. She had heard it before. Always the suspicion. Always the fear.
"I didn't ask for these powers," she said quietly. "I was sent here by Tony Stark. My mission was to find Spider-Man. You. But then that robot—"
Miles didn't budge. He stepped closer, tension rolling off him in waves. "People around here don't just fall out of portals with powers they can't explain. You expect me to trust you? To let you near my city?"
Before Aurora could answer, a tearing sound split the air. A glitching villain—an oversized rhino-shaped brute, its skin flickering in and out of static—stumbled into the street below, crushing a parked car. Civilians screamed and scattered.
Miles glanced at Aurora. His hesitation lasted only a heartbeat. "Fine. We stop him. Then we're talking."
He leapt off the roof, firing webs. Aurora followed instinctively, her body mirroring his somersault through the air. Her stomach twisted—was she just a shadow, destined to be resented for copying?
The fight was chaos. Miles zipped between the creature's horns, firing venom-charged webs to destabilize its glitching frame. Aurora followed, mimicking his timing, matching his dodges perfectly. At one point, she swung in low, grabbed a mother and child, and vaulted them to safety.
Miles noticed. His brow furrowed behind the mask.
But when Aurora copied his venom-punch, her fist sparking golden just like his, the rhino staggered back, stunned—Miles froze.
"You—!" His voice was sharp with alarm.
Aurora landed in a crouch, chest burning. "I didn't mean to—! It just happens when I'm near people like you!"
The creature dissolved into static, vanishing into thin air. The danger was over. But Miles didn't celebrate. He dropped from a lamppost, standing a few feet away from her.
"Stay out of my head, copycat," he warned, voice low. "You might've helped me today, but until I know what you really are—you're just another problem I need to watch."
Aurora's fists trembled at her sides. She wanted to scream at him. To tell him she hated these powers more than he could ever understand. Instead, she just whispered:
"I don't want to be your problem. I want to be… useful."
Miles turned his back and fired a webline into the night. "Then prove it."
Aurora stood alone on the street as the echoes of sirens drew near. For the first time in months, she wasn't sure if she'd ever belong anywhere.