[center][b][color=darkred][sup][h1]M I L E S  M O R A L E S[/h1][/sup][/color][/b][/center]
[COLOR=darkred][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3] L O S  A N G E LE S [/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=darkgray]? ?[sup]?[/sup], Present Day  |  9:30 A.M.  |  California[/color][/sup][/INDENT][/INDENT]

Miles sat in the back seat; Jefferson, his father, and Gloria, his mother, sat in the front. Mushed beneath luggage: dufflebags, suitcases, laundry baskets, Miles found no comfort and was sitting in quite an awkward position. As they passed through the city, Jefferson turned down the radio and twisted around in the front seat,

“Miles.” Miles had his headphones in, eyes closed.

“Miles!” his eyes shot open, he pulled the earphones out, an eyebrow raised at his father’s beckon. He was sure he had not done anything wrong, though his list of things he had probably done was much longer than he could likely remember.

“S’up?”
“Don’t ‘s’up’ me, boy.”
“Yes, sir!” Miles saluted,
“Miles.” Jefferson’s tone was flat, Miles knew.

“So, this new school you’re going to, I don’t want Tony Stark calling my phone talking about you’ve been acting up, hear me? You ran me and your mother ragged the last time you were in school and if we have to come up here to collect you, neither one of us are going to be happy about it. Understood?”

“Yeah, totally, pop. T-o-t-a-l-l-y.” Miles gave a grin; Jefferson knew the mischief hiding behind that smile.

Gloria added, “And mijo, make sure you call. You don’t want me writing you letters all the time, do you?” Miles was shaking his head frantically in the back; in a nest of peers, recieving letters from one’s mother was [i]rife[/i] for becoming the hind of many jokes and many cruel pranks,

“Do you?” she re-iterated, an eyebrow raised,
“No. No letters… [sub]no giftbaskets with flowers and roses either[/sub]” he muttered,
“Excuse me?” nothing was hid from Gloria Morales. Nothing.
“I didn’t say anything.” the car pulled up to the facility. 

Miles uncorked himself from the puzzle that was the luggage between which he was trapped and threw the dufflebag strap over his shoulder so it sat at his hip; he grabbed one of the suitcases and pushed the door nearest the curb open where he stepped out and gazed over the gleaming facility. From the front seat his father and mother exited; his father grabbed one of the suitcases and handed it to his son. Gloria hugged and kissed her son,

“Be safe,” then Jefferson came around and finished the departing gestures with a firm hug. He patted Miles on the back a few times, Miles’ hands were indisposed with suitcases otherwise he would have hugged back. Jefferson kissed Miles on his forehead,

“Remember what I said. Don’t make me come up here, boy!” a smile,

Gloria waved Miles off, “Well, go go! Go have fun!” both his parents got in the car and sped off at a pace which made Miles believe they had been [i]desperately[/i] waiting for this day for months. There was but smoke and screeching tires.

“Wow, love you guys, too.” he coughed, exhaust smoke aggravating his lungs. He turned and faced the looming Avengers facility with the large A imprinted on the front,

“Well… here goes nothing.”