Miguel raised his eyebrow at Greer when she made a joke about allergies. “You’re gonna tell me your flirty ways couldn’t override their cat allergies?” But at least she relented and went inside.
He watched her search for an entrance, both admiring her body and thinking that she was actually a surprising amount of fun. He tended to be a lot more serious as Spider-Man than as himself, because he was so focused on not getting killed. But Tigra apparently viewed the life of a superhero as an adventure, an approach that had quite simply not occurred to Miguel. But maybe there was something to it.
He watched Tigra enter the lab, trying to elicit the help of the scientists. As he did so, he looked around to see if there were any supervillains intending to invade the place. None seemed forthcoming for the moment, but the energy waves were getting more and more intense, and the space between each wave was decreasing. Their science project was going to go critical at any moment.
In the Stark-Fujikawa laboratory, none of the scientists happened to be allergic to Greer’s cat hair, but two of them were awestruck in a fanboy sort of way by her presence. One of the scientists who wasn’t awestruck – a short, chubby guy with glasses and a wardrobe consisting entirely of flannel – tried to explain the situation. “Well, the idea was, by tapping into temporal energy in between dimensions, this generator wouldn’t lose energy as it operates.”
“Instead,” another scientist, tall with graying hair, continued, “the energy is focused in a temporal loop, coming back to be recycled before it was used in the first place.”
“A perpetual motion machine, basically,” one of Tigra’s admirers summed up. “But there’s a problem: once we turned it on, it started spiraling out of control. It’s ignoring our overrides.”
“Um, that’s not all it’s doing,” the short one pointed out as he studied readings on one of the monitors. “The target location for the energy source has moved. Instead of looping with itself in subspace three seconds ago, it’s connected itself to a similar source occurring in realspace decades from now. In particular…” With a few keystrokes, he locked onto the specific time. “March 31st, 2099.”
Miguel, who had gotten impatient and entered the building and laboratory while the scientists were dropping jargon, peered over the scientist's shoulder. "Wait, that's the date in my time," he realized.
The Fujikawa Industries scientists yelped, startled by his presence; they hadn't realized he was there. "Geez, who the heck is that?"
"Looks like some kind of supervillain," another scientist observed.
Miguel shook his head. "Oh, great. So it's me the history recordings were talking about."