#trashtexts

They dragged Miguel’s unconscious form through the portal. Miles huffed, frustrated that the man was so heavy to him despite now having super strength. It didn’t help that it was impossible to have a good hold on the limp body. Still, the two of them managed. 

“Get him on the table,” Mr. Ohnn said. He ripped open the drawers for the medkit. Miles hefted Miguel over to the metal work table. He had to contort his body to shove and slide the mountain of a man off his shoulders and onto the smooth surface. 

Mr. Ohnn ran around washing his hands and gathered clean water into a metal basin. “Take his shirt off.”

Miles scowled but obeyed. Why did he have to do all this for fucking Miguel O’ Hara? He activated his gauntlet to slice through the thin fabric. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Mr. Ohnn said. “You wanted to keep him, not me.”

“I get it,” he snapped back. Revulsion turned in his gut. The thought of saving the life of the man who ruined his was abhorrent, had his jaw clenched tight and fighting off the desire to just kill the man right here and now. He avoided looking at the beaten and bleeding man on the table and tried not to think of his hands wrapping around his throat. He couldn’t continue Miguel’s misery if he was dead. Focus on the job. 

The wound was still bleeding sluggishly. Miguel was fully unconscious and had no reaction to the two of them flitting around him. 

“Wash your hands and put on some gloves.” Mr Ohnn said, taking out the packaged needle and gauze to set them aside. “And grab a clean towel.”

Miles hurried around the room doing just that. “You didn’t need all this last time,” he grumbled. 

“Yeah, well, ‘last time’ the wound was already closing and all I had to worry about was a little infection. This–” Mr. Ohnn snapped some gloves on. “This doesn’t look so good.”

“He said he was weaker.” Miles gestured to Miguel. “Said he needs his serum that his powers were tied to genetic stability or something.”

“Serum?”

“The green goo.”

“Oh,” Mr. Ohnn opened a portal to gather the vials and injector. “Must be why his healing factor is kind of shit right now.”

Anger flared anew. “He was weakened the whole time,” Miles snarled. The whole time he believed he bested the Miguel O’ Hara, Spiderman of the future, leader of the Spider Society, the man that took everything from him. But he didn’t. He thought he finally did something right, but it was a hollow victory. He was still that weak little kid trapped in the stupid orange box. And who knew how long it had been since his last serum dose. Everything he and Mr. Ohnn had been working on, training for, he still couldn’t beat Miguel on even ground. 

“I would love to reassure you or give you some words of encouragement, Miles, but we’re kind of busy here.”

After drying his hands off, Miles joined Mr. Ohnn at the table. “I didn’t win.”

Mr. Ohnn snapped to him. “Of course you did.” He grabbed an x-ray scanner from the otherside of the table and positioned it over Miguel’s wound. He double checked to see if the scan was running before turning to grab Miles’ shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Listen, we are not gladiators in the colosseum. It doesn’t need to be an honorable 1 v 1. You had an opportunity and took it. Recognizing those moments of opportunity and capitalizing is what separates the winners from the losers. You hear me?” He jostled Miles with a little shake. 

Of all the people that should have been there for him, supported him, the Spot should have been at the bottom of the list. And yet, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Mr. Ohnn was the only one who was there for him, the only one who could understand him. 

Truthfully, Miles didn’t know what he did to have Mr. Ohnn choose to help him, let alone stay with him. He would never be able to express how grateful he was to the man for picking him above all else. 

“I hear you,” Miles said. 

“Good,” Mr. Ohnn squeezed his shoulders before letting go. “Because I’m kind of panicking right now, so if we could save your crisis for later, would love.”

Miles snorted. “Sure.”

Mr. Ohnn looked over the scanner results and let out a sigh of relief. “No internal organ damage, thank whatever for that, because I may have a doctorate, but not that kind of doctor. I do know, however, I gotta replace these,” He pulled the gloves off and put on some clean ones. He picked up the injector and turned it over in his hand. “Clean the wound for me, would you?”

Miles wiped the blood from the surrounding skin, making it easier for Mr. Ohnn to work later. He dunked the bloodied rag into the once pristine water, casting a reddish cloud to the basin. Soon he revealed three distinct slashes. He dabbed away at the wounds, careful not to accidentally undo the work of any clotted blood. He tried not to focus on who was on the receiving end of his diligent care. 

Mr. Ohnn had all he needed laid out on the table nearby. “I’m going to seal the opening, then give him the goo and some antibiotics.” he said. “It’s not exactly sterile, but once his healing factor is back to top form, it’ll take care of any infection for us. You with me?”

Miles snorted. “And you say you’re not a doctor.”

“I just watched a lot of medical dramas when I was in undergrad.” But despite his words, his deft fingers worked quickly on the sutures. Perhaps it was his previous lab work that trained his steady hand; that and all the practice he had on Miles and now Miguel. 

Miles watched as Mr. Ohnn completed stitch after stitch. Miguel had not stirred once, but he was still breathing, which was… a sign. But Miles’ anxiety was ratcheting. If Miguel died here on this table, what was next for them? This was… everything. This was what he worked towards for years. And if he didn’t have this… 

“Hey, Miles, wanna help?” Mr. Ohnn asked. 

“What?” A spike of nervous energy pulled his spine straight.

“If you could help put some stitches in that top laceration, you’d save us a lot of time,” he said. Eyes solely focused on closing up the middle tear which was the longest and deepest cut by far. 

“But I don’t know how–”

“Pull up a video. It’s not that hard.”

“He’s dying,” Miles stressed. 

“You learn best under pressure.” Mr. Ohnn pulled up a projection of a youtube video showing how to make a simple interrupted suture. “Besides, he’s in no condition to complain about bad stitches.” 

His palms started to sweat. “I don’t know–”

Mr. Ohnn handed him a needle and thread. “Experience is the best teacher.”

Miles took it and sighed. Mr. Ohnn wasn’t going to back down from this. Fine. He threaded the needle and watched the video once. When he turned back to look at Miguel, another pair of forceps were in front of him. Well, now or never.

He grabbed a piece of skin with the forceps and pried the wound open a little to get a better view. He slowly pierced the flesh with the needle in his other hand, brows knitting in concentration to keep his hand steady. 

“You’re holding it too tight,” Mr. Ohnn said. “You’re making yourself tremble.” 

“Well, sorry for being nervous,” Miles hissed as he fully pulled the needle out to the otherside. 

“Don’t be. You don’t care about this guy. Who cares if he has a shitty stitch?” 

He was right. Why was Miles trying so hard for this asshole? He wanted to get it right, sure, but the best person to fuck up on was Miguel O’ Hara. The surgeon’s knot seemed easy enough. He wrapped the thread around the forceps three times just like the video and pulled the leftover thread through and tugged. 

“Pull it tighter,” Mr. Ohnn corrected. 

So he did. And did the knot two more times before standing straight and looking up for confirmation. 

“Not bad, kid. Now do it again.”

Miles preened under the praise and got to work. The next one he finished faster and the one after that. Before he realized it, he finished seven stitches and sealed up the top laceration. 

Mr. Ohnn patted him on the shoulder, gloves off and having already finished sealing the other two wounds. “Good job.”

Seeing Mr. Ohnn’s straight and neat stitches next to his more crooked ones, did nothing to deter the smile off his face. Practice was practice. “Thanks.”

“Almost done, just the goo and the antibiotics.” Mr. Ohnn inserted the serum cartridge into the injector and shot it right into the meat of Miguel’s shoulder. 

The rest of it should have been easy. Miguel was unconscious and hadn’t even so much as twitched as they worked on him. So they weren’t expecting it when his eyes snapped open and began thrashing. 

“Oh, that’s not good.” Mr. Ohnn said unhelpfully. His attention focused on the wound. “Hold him down. We don’t want his stitches to tear.” He held Miguel’s legs down or at least tried to. 

Miles went into his gauntlet to lock down Miguel’s wrist, but that didn’t stop him from trying to twist out of them, which was causing blood to seep from the freshly closed wounds. He tried to push down on Miguel’s chest to stop his torso from writhing, but he was still pulling at his stitches. “Miguel, stop!”  

“We’re trying to help you, buddy!”

Miles didn’t even bother to correct Mr. Ohnn. “You’re making this worse for yourself, man!”

“I worked really hard on those sutures!”

Miguel continued to try and buck them off. 

“Maybe shut up, Mr. Ohnn. I think your voice is setting him off.”

“Oh, like yours doesn’t?”

Was this part of ‘genetic maintenance’? If so, Miguel really needed to elaborate more on what that entailed because this was not what he had in mind. His eyes darted around wildly, confused, and  fearful. 

And while Miles wasn’t opposed to that expression on Miguel’s face, it ticked him off that it wasn’t him causing it. He climbed onto the table and straddled the man’s chest. He gripped Miguel’s face between his hands and made him focus. “Hey!”

Miguel’s eyes still tried to look around. “Where am I?”

“So he speaks!” 

“Miles? Wh- what happened?” 

“You got your ass beat by that Scorpion. Remember that?”

A twitch in Miguel’s brow. “I did not lose to the Scorpion,” he snarled. “I lost to you kicking me into a building.”

“Seems coherent enough,” he said over his shoulder to Mr. Ohnn. “Promise not to move around and tear your stitches?”

“Wha– yeah, just get off.” 

Miles hopped off and undid the locks. Miguel immediately tried to sit up. 

“Ah,” Mr. Ohnn said, pushing him back down. “Don’t ruin my hard work.” 

Miguel rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean to.”

“When you said genetic maintenance I didn’t think you meant it made you go ballistic!”

“No. No, I didn’t– I just– The fluorescent lights–” He bit his lip. “I thought I was somewhere else.”

Miles raised an unimpressed brow. “So you don’t normally get that violent?” he asked for clarification. 

“No, I don’t.”

“Good, because if that was a regular thing, you definitely weren't going to be getting your weekly steroids.”

“There not–” Miguel did a double take the best he could laying flat on his back. “You’re going to give me my serum doses?”

“You’d die without it, wouldn’t you? And I can’t have that, can I?”

Miguel scowled. This was exactly where he belonged; at Miles’ mercy. Mr. Ohnn was right in a sense, it didn’t matter that they got here with less than fair means. Still it didn’t sit right with him, but now he would amend that. Miguel would never taste freedom again, not even in death. 

Miguel was used to pain. George O’Hara beat him, his brother, and their mother. Everyone in the house were victims, but Miguel got it worse. His father’s rage against him lasted longer, hits landed harder. He could only pray that by the time George was done with him, he would be too tired to move onto his brother or mother. At some point, bruises became a permanent affixation to his aesthetic. 

Maybe George could see what he could not. That Miguel wasn’t really an O’Hara. 

When his father died, it should have been all sunshine and rainbows. But there were more problems in their lives than just a man that liked to hit the people who were supposed to be his family. 

School was not the problem. He was a smart kid; kept his head down, kept his grades up. His future was secure. That should have been enough for his family, for his mother. Yet she looked at him like he was something else. She said he was selfish and maybe he was. He must have gotten it from her. He hooked up with his brother’s girlfriend because he just couldn’t help himself. But they were young and dumb and so in love that they even got engaged. Down the line, he apologized profusely to Gabriel and begged for his forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it, but Gabe gave it to him anyway. 

And Miguel ultimately ended it with Dana. After all the pain and strife his family put into that relationship, he couldn’t make it last. 

Miguel was selfish, but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t the only reason his mother looked at him with those eyes, like- like he was other . He was her mistake. He was a mistake. And that was why he could only ever make mistakes.  

Working at Alchemex was a mistake. It should have been the best company to work at, financial security was guaranteed. Certainly one of the most powerful, but that came with corruption running rampant throughout it. And thinking it wouldn’t affect him was another mistake. 

Talking with Tyler Stone was a mistake. Trusting Tyler Stone was a mistake. But what could he say? Miguel was accustomed to abuse at the hands of father figures even if he hadn’t been aware of it at the time.

Now he lived a life of his own self inflicted addiction to his Spider serum, needing regular doses to maintain his genetic structure. Splicing his DNA was rash, but it saved his life. But he wouldn’t have needed to if he had just been careful. It was a mistake. Another one to add to his books. 

Miguel thought that starting the Spider Society and uniting those across the great web could be the one thing he got right. A group there to fix the tears in space-time and help each other when they needed it. It should have been his shining achievement. But it was a mistake just like all the rest. 

If Miguel never started the Spider Society, none of this would have happened. Gwen’s father, Peter B’s MJ, Gabriella, all these universes, all those Spiders, none of it would be gone . Miles would have never known the truth. The universe would have adjusted, might have gone on to make Miles a true Spiderman even though everything that happened was an anomaly. 

There was a running theme here. Every time Miguel tried to make something better, he just made it worse

Mistakes. Mistakes on mistakes. Everything Miguel did was a mistake.

Miles was his mistake. It was in part, if not entirely, his fault that Miles had become more monster than boy. And he had to keep reminding him of that even when sometimes Miles was more boy than monster. Especially at times when–

“I’m so hungry,” Miles complained, holding his stomach while he rolled around on the couch of their newly instated safehouse in this universe they jumped to. 

They were in a seedier part of town where people knew better than to question the strange looking man in a weird white and black spotted costume. They didn’t have to know it was actually skin. 

The apartment matched the area. Dingy and kinda gross, but no one would bother them. All the furniture was stolen and rent was dirt cheap. These were the places that Miguel hated the most. It meant they didn’t intend to stay long, it wasn’t a permanent safehouse. Another universe Miles and the Spot intended to collapse. Another fight where he could do nothing to save anyone. 

Miguel had tried in the last one and Miles had not been joking when he said to put a muzzle on him. The new nanotech chip on the back of his neck replaced his suit and would become a cage muzzle, because a plain mask wasn’t humiliating enough. Stripped of any power and dignity, Miguel was left with his indignation. 

“What do you guys want to eat?” Miles asked.

“I’m good with anything,” the Spot said. 

“Miguel?”

Miguel just glared at him from the loveseat in the corner. His arm still recovering from the beating Miles gave him nearly a week ago, he was not in the mood to humor his playfulness. 

Miles rolled onto his stomach. “Come on, man. You’re not hungry?”

“Forgive me if I’ve lost my appetite,” he ground out. 

“Well, doubt you’ll have it later.” Miles shot to his feet. “Let’s go to the city. See what they have.”

“Have somewhere in mind?” the Spot asked. 

“You sure you don’t have a preference?”

The Spot shook his head. 

“Miguel?”

A low growl was his only response. 

That only seemed to amuse Miles even more. “Maybe, we get chinese? They probably have something easy for your stomach.”

“So Chinatown?”

“Yup. Ready, Miguel?”

He grunted, but still stood. 

“Don’t fall on your face this time,” Miles teased. 

“I never–”

A hole opened up underneath them and Miguel just barely stayed on his feet. Those little– “Seriously?”

Miles laced his fingers behind his head and walked down Canal street. “I thought that was a yes grunt, not a no grunt.” 

“This is why we’ve been telling you to use your words,” the Spot piled on. “But Mr. Grumpy only wants to talk to us through his teeth.”

Miguel reluctantly followed them. “Right, because it’s so unreasonable for me to be taciturn with my captors.”

Miles spun on his heels and grinned at the two of them. “And sarcasm, don’t forget the sarcasm.”

“You expect me to act any differently?”

“I think you're acting exactly as you should.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean? “You're exactly as irritating as I remember you being.”

That wiped the smug smirk off the brat’s face. “Careful, Miguel. Wouldn’t want to piss me off.”

“And here I thought I couldn’t piss you off anymore than I already do, Miles.”

“Alway room for growth.”

“We can bicker at the dinner table,” the Spot interjected. “Where are we eating?”

Miles fell into pace besides the Spot. “Do we have connection yet?”

“I set it up earlier,” he said, pulling out a phone from one of the many pockets of his cargo shorts. “Yeah, you should have internet access.”

Miles raised a gauntlet to search up ‘Chinatown soup’. “Ooo, soup dumplings.” He tapped on the address and a little map popped up. They walked down the main street, following Miles, who diligently followed the map until a warm sweet aroma wafted through the air. Immediately, he detoured off the path to a metal cart selling sweet bubble waffles. 

“We’re about to eat,” Miguel pointed out.

Miles fished cash out of his bag “And? We have enhanced metabolisms.”

“Not right now I don’t.” It had been a while since they gave him his serum dose. 

“One isn’t going to ruin your appetite.”

“I don’t want one.”

“Well now you’re definitely getting one.”

Miguel put his hands on his hips. “I don’t think reverse psychology is supposed to work in this situation.”

Miles gestured for 3 orders and handed the old man behind the window five dollars. “It’s not about that. It’s about whatever I want, and I want you to eat one.”

Miguel glared at the paper bag he was handed as if the sweet treats inside were his enemy. They smelled delicious and he felt the warmth penetrating through the thin bag. It was tempting. But call him paranoid, he couldn’t help but think this was some sort of mental manipulation. Or petty, because he really didn’t want to listen to Miles. 

As they continued on their way to the restaurant, Miles and the Spot snacked on their waffles. Miguel didn’t understand, the Spot had no mouth, yet tossed bubble after bubble into the void on his face. How did he even eat? Was that actually his mouth or like a portal to his stomach? Well, it wouldn’t be wise to have an open access to his stomach. 

“You going to eat that?” Miles asked.

“What? No.” Miguel tried handing it off.  

“I don’t want it.” Miles bounced back on his heels. 

He then tried handing it to the Spot. 

The Spot shook his head. “Gotta watch the waist line.”

Miguel returned to scowling at the innocent pastries. 

“Don’t waste it,” Miles said. “Your momma didn't raise no food waster.”

 “What do you know about my mother?” he scoffed. But he was right, she didn’t. He ate one. It was still a bit warm. It was soft and pillowy and just the right amount of sweetness. It was delicious.

“You’re going to ruin your appetite,Miguel,” Miles said, scandalized.

 Miguel rolled his eyes and kept eating. Regardless of the childish bait, his mother did not in fact raise a food waster. 

There was a scream up ahead. All heads turned in that direction. They were off the main street, which might explain why the man running towards them felt comfortable enough to snatch the purse of the woman chasing after him. 

Miguel instinctually stepped forward with the intent to stop him, but Miles was further in front. 

“Seriously?” Miles stuck out his foot and tripped the man, causing  him to fall flat on his face. “In broad daylight?” He sat on him as the woman jogged up to them. 

“Thank you,” she said, panting for air. 

Miles handed back her bag. “You're welcome. Wanna file a police report? We can wait with you.”

The woman’s brows creased with uncertainty, her hands coming up, probably about to say no until the man squirming underneath Miles decided to open his stupid mouth. 

“Come on. I didn’t even take anything!”

Then her face morphed into disgust and set in determination. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

“Bro!” The man started thrashing in earnest, trying to buck Miles off. “What are they feeding you?”

Miles grinned. “Spiders.”

Miguel grimaced at the bad taste in humor.

“Got something to say?”

Miguel crossed his arms. “Just call the cops, ma’am.”

The young lady seemed a bit put off by the use of the title but pulled out her phone regardless. She spoke quietly to the operator.

“Listen, kid. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Miles snapped. 

“Sorry, man! It was a lapse in judgment!” He pleaded. “It won’t happen again!”

Miles hummed. “Sure it won’t.”

“I’m serious! My family needs the money!”

“I bet. But you were just begging to be caught.”

“No! I was desperate!”

“Stupid more like. In broad daylight, in a relatively busy area, running straight at three dudes.” Miles was right, especially when there was potentially a Spiderman swinging around. 

A pair of cops turned the corner. How uncharacteristically quick of them. Well, like Miles said, the man wasn’t really thinking; broad daylight and only down the street from a busy intersection. The thief tossed and thrashed about trying to dislodge Miles, but it was a futile attempt. Miguel could relate. “Fuck off, kid!” Oh, that was a mis–

Miles slammed the man's head into the concrete. 

Miguel could relate to that too. He turned away to watch the woman approach the officers. She spoke with them as they came closer. 

“Miguel,” Miles said, getting up from the cursing thief, who was swiftly placed in handcuffs. “Finish your snack.”

 Miguel looked down at the slightly cooled waffle pieces and frowned. It surely wouldn’t be as good now. Still, he ate without complaint. The Spot stared at him unabashedly. “What?” he asked. 

The Spot shrugged. “Nothing.”

Miguel hated this, hated feeling stuck between them. Miles was manic and volatile. The Spot was awkward and enigmatic. He first thought the Spot would be the heinous one, egging Miles on and whispering dark things in his ear. But it was the opposite. The Spot was the practical one, telling Miles when to take a break or if a plan was too reckless. Sometimes he would just sit there and… watch… silently. It was weird and off putting and Miguel never knew what to think of the villain. And Miles… Miles was a different beast altogether. 

Miguel tried to escape multiple times. Clearly, none of them successful, but every time Miles dished out a cruel form of punishment for trying.  The beatings were the easiest to take. He fought back, he always did, but perhaps they were taking their toll on him mentally, more than he anticipated. He fought back, but it felt almost like an obligation rather than real effort. Escape felt so out of reach. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

Sometimes Miles was crueler. Sometimes he would bring a civilian inches from death and make them beg Miguel for their lives. Other times he would jump to a new universe and bring New York to its knees. He has not yet brought them to another Nueva York. He might be waiting for just the right reason to punish Miguel like that again… 

And then there was the odd punishment of simply seeing Miles. Punishment was perhaps not the right word, but it felt like it. Seeing Miles just be… a kid, seeing the kid Miles could have been– should have been, felt… He should have been a boy rather than a monster, but he wasn’t, and that was in large part Miguel’s fault. And that felt bad . 

It felt wrong. Miguel spent his life fighting monsters. He did his best to protect everyone from them. And yet– What he is now is all you, Miguel .

Miguel sucked his teeth in frustration. 

Miles quirked a brow in his direction. “What’s got your pants in a grump?”

Miguel looked at him incredulously. “Pants in a grump?"

“Grumpy pants, but different.”

“What?”

“Ah, you wouldn’t get it.” He whipped around. “Hey, lady! You good?”

“Yes! Thank you so much” She smiled at him and nodded towards Miguel and the Spot. 

“Sure,” Miles couldn’t help but return the awkward smile. 

More boy than monster. Miles had been a good kid just trying his best. He was left with a great responsibility on his shoulders. He hadn’t been perfect, a little awkward (but not like Miguel could talk), but he was good. He stood with her as the police took her statement. He gave a reassuring thumbs up whenever she would look his way. 

Miguel huffed a small chuckle. “Still that friendly neighborhood Spiderman,” he murmured. 

The Spot’s head snapped to look at him, followed by an incredulous scoff. 

Miles stilled and pinned him with a stare. “Wanna repeat that?”

Shit.

Miles could taste the anxiety rolling off him. “I know it was posed as a question, but that wasn’t a request.”

He licked his lips as his mouth suddenly became dry. “Miles.”

“Miguel.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“No. Go on.”

“I don’t think that’s–”

“You're stalling.”

“I’m not,” he hissed. “I just thought–” He sucked in breath. “For as much as you call yourself a villain, you still have that spark of Spiderman.”

Miles tilted his head. “I never was though, right, Miguel?”

“Miles.” He should have never worded it like that, but he had let his anger and frustration get the better of him. But realizing that now, would not change the course either of them were on. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“But it’s how I want it to be.”  

“Miles,” he growled.

Miles turned back to the woman. “You’re done here, right? You should leave.”

“O-oh.” She looked between them nervously. “Alright.” She asked the officers if she was done giving her statement and once she got the nod of confirmation she thanked them before scurrying out onto the main road. 

“Do you need to take our statements too, officers?” Miles asked.

“Miles, don’t,” Miguel hissed. 

The officers approached them.

“Miles! I’m serious.”

“So am I. Don’t forget who’s in charge here.”

“Miles–”

“Correct!”

The officers were blind to Miles' intentions. They see the good natured teen that helped a woman get her purse back from a runaway thief. They do not see the potential he has. They do not see the violence that pumped through his heart. The foolish sheep walked into the maw of the beast. 

Miles' claws activated. They were slow. Basically civilians with a smidge more authority. The first one died in a blink, the head rolling off his shoulders before the other could register what was happening. 

Miguel’s foot was only able to shift its weight before–

“Kneel,” Miles commanded. 

The cuffs dragged Miguel to the ground. 

The officer pulled his firearm and fired. 

Miles dodged the first bullet. The second landed uselessly in his claws. As did the third. And fourth. And fifth. And the rest of them until the officer’s gun was empty and his trembling hand attempted to reload it.

“Call for backup,” Miles offered. 

The man fumbled with his radio. 

“Miles,” Miguel’s voice strained. “I misspoke! You don’t have to do this!”

“No, you didn’t.” Miles waited until the man was halfway through his first sentence on the radio before extending the red holo of his claws to drag the feeble man over to him. The man screamed. 

“Miles!”

“Do you know why we’re here, Miguel?” The man scrabbled uselessly at the ground, trying to delay his death, even if only by a few seconds. “Do you know what universe this is?” He didn’t even wait for Miguel to answer. “This is Earth-18119.”

Miguel’s eyes widened. Spinneret’s universe. 

“What better way to draw out Spiders than to shake their web?” 

Only when the officer finally screamed his voice hoarse, did Miles kill him with a swift strike to the chest. Miguel stared despondent at the two corpses that littered the area that moments before had Miles stopping a thief and comforting the victim. 

“Everyone of your little Spider soldiers are right here.” Miles lifted his left gauntlet, the red screen screaming back at Miguel. The profiles of Spiderman, Spinneret, and Spiderling clear under the word ‘target’. “ Your incessant stalking and need for control really backfired on you, huh?”

Miguel’s heart hammered in his chest. “Miles, you’ve made your point. Please!”

“There’s no point to be made.” Miles turned to him, blood splattered across his cheek. “If anything, I’ve finally seen things your way.”

“This is not what–”

“Spiderman is suffering.”

“Spiderman is sacrifice!”

“Then may their sacrifice bring you great suffering.”

“Miles!” Miguel pleaded. “I’m sorry! You were right! I should have tried! I should have let you try!”

The world screamed. The chorus of New York dying echoed in his ears. The buildings glitched until their atoms fell apart. People ran from the quantum hole overtaking their city, but they had nowhere to go. Cars honked, dogs barked, cats hissed, people yelled at no one and nothing. New York was alive, clawing, begging for life. But not for long. 

There was serenity at the end of the world. 

Miles sat on the rim of the torch of Lady Liberty. It had the best view of the city's degradation. Normally there would have been Spiders coming to stop it, but there was no one today. His fight with his past was over two weeks ago. His mask was still broken, but he and Mr. Ohnn were working on some improvements. His nose just finished healing, a pinkish skin taking over what was once scabbing across the bridge of his nose.

Maybe Miguel O’ Hara was still recovering, but he doubted the Society came to a grinding halt without him at the helm and he hadn’t seemed that injured from the scuffle with Mr. Ohn. At least not nearly as bad as what Miles did to Gwen and Pavitr. Or maybe they just gave up, but that was the least likely reason for the lack of Spiders.

Either way this universe was done for. The quantum hole was too big to be salvageable. For a man so obsessed with protecting the multiverse’s stability, Miguel O’ Hara let this one go easily enough. 

A flash and a crack sounding off in the sky signaled the arrival of the Spiders. About time. 

But something felt off about their arrival at this time. They spent a whole week in this universe before making a move on destabilizing the canon and it was easier than usual too; a teenage Spider was chockfull of canon events to pick from. Then the Spiders never showed up and the world was guaranteed to die. The whole day had been calm, the sort that came before the storm. 

Now there were Spiders behind him and not in front of him scrambling to close up the blackhole. They weren’t here to save this world, they were here for him. 

“You’re awfully late today,” Miles said. 

“Miles.” Peter B. Of course. 

“This Earth is already done for, you know that, right?”

“Where’s the Spot?” Miguel’s voice rumbled through the air. So they were going to let this universe go just to stop them. Smelled desperate. 

“Around.”

“Call him here, now.”

"Hey," Peter B placed a hand on Miguel’s chest. “We can reason with him." He looked at Miles. "You’re a reasonable guy, aren’t you?”

“Not really.” He flexed his wrists. “But go ahead, see if I’ll bite.”

“Come on, Miles. You don’t really like being here, do you?”

“Why not? It's a great view.”

That upset Peter B. “People are dying.”

Miles hummed in acknowledgment. “It does look cool though, right.”

“You can’t be serious.” Peter B was flabbergasted. 

He shrugged. “Millions are dying for this, I’m appreciating their sacrifice.” 

“Miles, you know this is wrong, right?”

“Sure, but that’s what villains do.”

“You’re not a villain!”

Miles turned to them, standing and stepping closer. “Is that really what you think?” He curled his fingers into a fist, enjoying the way Miguel’s eyes snapped to the movement. “After everything I’ve done?”

“I know there’s good in you, Miles.”

A laugh forced itself past his lips. “That’s cute. That’s very cute, right, Mr. Ohnn?”

Mr. Ohnn appeared beside him, making the two Spiders flinch. “Very. And doing this whole song and dance again, also very cute.”

“Miles, get away from him,” Peter B said, lowering himself into a fighting stance. “He’s a very bad man.”

“Mr. Ohnn’s not that bad once you get to know him.” Miles chuckled. “But he’s the worst when waiting in line at the grocery store.”

Mr. Ohnn crossed his arms defensively. “Well, if they're going to take that long to figure out the self checkout, just go to the cashier.”

“Enough!” Miguel snapped. “Kid, you have one chance to sit this out.”

"Don’t call me that!” Miles snapped back. He didn’t get to call him a kid when he was the one that killed his father. He didn’t get to call him a kid when it was his fault he had to grow up. He took a deep breath, centering his mind before it could spiral. Miguel’s time would come, he’d make sure of it. He grinned. “And besides, this looks like so much fun.”

“Miles,” Peter B pleaded. 

“Mr. Ohnn, a 2 v 20 doesn’t seem very fair to me, shall we even the odds?”

Spiders revealed themselves, crawling out and around the Statue of Liberty. Reds, blues, golds, and blacks covered the aged copper green. The Spot chuckled, black portals bubbled in the palm of his hands. He threw them all around, dumping villains onto Liberty Island. All of Spiderman’s rogues gallery were here; from heavy hitters like Doctor Octopus and Venom to small time nuisances like Scorpion and Vulture. Confusion was temporary, but their hatred for Spiderman was forever and with so many Spiders to pick from, the villains dove headfirst into battle. 

Miguel snarled. “You had your chance, Miles. Detain them!” The Spiders sprung into action, breaking off into groups; some engaging with the villains, many going after the Spot, and the remaining came after Miles. Miguel's eyes followed the Spot and launched himself forwards. 

Miles watched him go, jumping off the statue. He wasn't going to give the man the fight he wanted. No one was going to dictate the flow of this fight, no one but him. He ducked and weaved through webs flung at him. With sharp turns and agile twists, nothing managed to land on him. They must not remember, he used to be Spiderman too. 

He detached from the statue, falling into the little horde of villains on the ground floor. They didn’t attack him, instead their eyes were glued to the wave of Spiders trying to follow him. And only when the Spiders were with their reach, did they launch themselves forward. 

Miguel dodged a flurry of benches flung at the Spiders going after Mr. Ohnn, but before he could continue his chase, Miles intercepted him, kicking him off target. They brought that device to try and detain Mr. Ohnn and Miles wasn’t willing to see if the third time was the charm. 

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, Miles,” Miguel snarled. 

“Don’t I?” Miles dodged out of the way of his hands. 

“We have to stop him no matter the cost.”

Miles was the cost. “Him? You should be worried about me.”

“Don’t do this.” They circled each other. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Hurt him? Miguel O' Hara, the man who ran him down and locked him in a cell in an alternate universe and ruined his life, didn't want to hurt him. “You should have thought about that before you killed my father!” Miles yelled and launched himself forward. 

Stunned and unable to move in time, Miguel’s only option was to eat the fist that landed on his cheek. It knocked his senses back into him, scrambling to dodge the follow up kick. “Miles, I–”

“Shut up!” Electricity ran down his arms. “I don’t want to hear it!” He didn’t even let Miguel open his mouth again before attacking. He threw two spikes for Miguel to dodge which got the older man off balance for when he surged forward with a third in hand. 

Miguel dodged in time to make the stab a mere graze. He managed to dodge and block, keeping up with Miles’ pace even without a spidey sense, but even still, he was left with blood sealed underneath his nanosuit. 

But he wasn’t fighting back. 

Miles grabbed his wrist, squeezing it as hard as he could. “Did you come to dance or fight?”

Miguel grabbed Miles’ arm in return. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Aw, poor thing. Did you need some help to get you going?” Miles mocked. He ripped his arm out of Miguel’s grip and spread his arms wide, gesturing at the chaos around them. Three Spiders were trying to wrangle the Venom. Two more were controlling Rhino’s direction, stopping him from interfering with the other Spiders. Vulture flew over head with a Spider holding on for dear life. “If you don’t start throwing hands, I’m going to kill them.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Miguel tried again. “We can get you help.” He must really not want to fight Miles. Too bad. 

“You don’t think I’m serious.” 

Miles balanced the spike on the tip of his finger. He spun it once in the air before catching it between his fingers. He whipped around to lock onto one of the Spiders fighting Venom. From this distance, at the arc of their movement, death was certain. He sent it flying to the Spider’s head. Their spidey sense screamed. They twisted out of the way of the spike, but it left them perfectly in the way of Venom’s claws, tearing out their guts. Perfect. 

Miguel roared behind him. It was the only warning Miles needed to flip over the enraged tackle. His talons flared out. Finally he was taking this seriously. 

“Oh, look.” Miles activated his gauntlets, red claws materializing into existence. “We’re matching.” 

They both rushed forward. Miguel’s hands were a blur, slashing and attempting to grab a hold of Miles. He was fast, brutal, but Miles was faster, slippery. But while Miles landed more blows, all his attacks seemed to bounce right off Miguel. 

And even more frustratingly, Miguel still wasn’t giving it his all. A year and a half ago, he chased Miles with a frenzied desperation, grabbed Miles like he hadn't cared if bones were broken, and could use his talons to give Miles matching bleeding wounds. But here he was taking Miles' attacks because he’d rather have a couple of bruises than have Miles escape again. 

Fine. If that’s how Miguel wanted to play it, Miles would make him regret it. He kickflipped off Miguel’s chest, backing out of their fight.

“Mr. Ohnn!” He called. “You can have this one. He’s no fun.”

Mr. Ohnn stumbled through a portal, a gaggle of Spiders hot on his heels. “Got my hands full!”

Electricity filled his arms, concentrating the energy into his fist. He launched himself at the mass of Spiders, landing a direct hit with his venom smash and sending the energy flying out in all directions. The remaining Spiders were thrown back as the electricity transferred between them. 

“There,” Miles said. He threw a thumb at Miguel. “He’s yours.”

“Miles!” 

Miles opted to ignore Miguel in favor of evening their odds. He swung himself up to the crown of Lady Liberty, eyes honing in on the Vulture trying to get the Spiderwoman off his back, literally. He’d help with that little pest. He slingshotted himself up at them, kicking Spiderwoman and sending her into freefall. Vulture dove in for the kill. She webbed the statue, intending to pull herself to safety. 

Miles’ claws sliced through the webs, leaving Spiderwoman open to the Vulture’s talons tearing down her back. 

One down. 

Venom struggled to pin down the other Spiders flitting around him. Miles landed behind one at the same time Venom swung. The spider stepped back to avoid it, but Miles pressed a hand to the vulnerable spot between the shoulderblades. The distraction along with the halted movement, gave an easy opening for Venom to grab the Spider around the throat and squeeze. 

The other Spider lurched forward to save his ally. His pathing was easy to read. Miles threw a spike into the wide expanse of his back, staggering him as it landed in his shoulder. Electricity brought him to his knees. His ribs cracked and caved under Venom’s foot. 

Miles left before the villain could turn his attention to him. 

Miles webbed himself onto Rhino’s back, next to the Spider using his webbing to direct the rampaging villain away from his fellow Spiders’ fights. He stabbed the Spider in the arm, loosening the control over Rhino, who barreled into one of the Spiders facing off against Doc Ock. He grabbed the back of the Spider’s suit, tearing him from the Rhino. Electricity stunned him and made him defenseless against Miles slamming him into the pavement. 

“Miles!” Peter B gave away his presence. And here came the meaningless words from an insignificant man. “You have to stop! You’re hurting people!”

“Whaaat? Noo.”  Sarcasm dripped down his chin. 

“Mil–”

He threw a spike to shut Peter B up. 

“Please! Can we just talk?”

Miles tried to take a chunk off his scalp with his claws. “You can.”

“Maybe–” He dodged a swipe. “Okay!” And another. “Time out!” That one was close. “You’re. Not. Making. This. Easy.” 

Miles webbed Peter B’s chest and dragged him into a punch. “So shut up!”

Peter B backed away from Miles’ advancing form. “Come on, Miles! It’s me!” He pulled his mask off. “It’s Peter.”

“Yeah, and?” He flared his claws. 

“Don’t you recognize me?” He held his hands up in a placating manner. 

“Of course I do, Peter.”

The statement stunned Peter B long enough for Miles to pounce, a fist slamming into his already crooked nose. The only thing more satisfying than the crunch was the pained yelp that followed. He stared up at Miles with wide eyes filled with disbelief and pain. Was that what he looked like when they locked him up? 

Miles pinned Peter B to the ground, his claws digging into the soft flesh of his shoulder and drew blood. “Peter Parker, a dime a dozen. Will the multiverse even care when you’re gone?”

A buzz sent a tingle throughout his skull. He only managed to unlatch his claws before a weight slammed into him, sending him skidding across the concrete. He kicked the offending figure away and flipped back onto his feet. Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie stood defensively over Peter B. Of course. Gwen still had a cast around her arm and a banages across her face. 

Good, maybe Miles will get to break it again. “Back for more? I didn’t beat you hard enough last time?”

“Miles,” Gwen started. 

“Miles this. Miles that. Miles. Miles. Miles.” He waved dismissively. “You all say it like it’s going to change anything.”

“You’re not in your right mind, mate,” Hobie said. 

“Oh you think so, huh?”

“Yeah!” Pavitr chirped. “We suspect your mind has been altered in some way.”

He stared at them in disbelief. “Alter–” He couldn’t even finish the word before laughing. Altered his mind? What a stupid theory. “That’s funny.”

Eliminate them one by one, even out the field, go for the weakest first. Miles flung a spike at Peter B who rolled out of the way. Hobie and Pavitr intercepted his next attack as Gwen helped up the older Spider. Then all four were coming at him. 

Miles ducked and dodged. He may be fast, but there were too many and he refused to run from them. No more. Never again. They would learn to run from him. 

Electricity gathered in his legs, infecting the area around his feet. With a venom launch, he boosted himself high in the air, taking Hobie and Pavitr with him. Suspended and at his mercy, Hobie could do nothing to stop the punch nailing his sternum. Electricity locked Pavitr’s limbs, making him unable to avoid Miles webbing his chest and tossing him at the statue of Liberty, leaving a crack in her dress. 

Hobie gasped on the floor, trying to draw in the breath that left him. Peter B and Gwen covered for him as he rolled onto his side. Miles shot a web by their feet, pulling himself into their space. Between them, Miles had a bit of a challenge on his hands. He actually had the space to fight back, but with their full attention on him, it was hard to land any hits. Peter B was too experienced to fall for his feints and Gwen didn’t overextend herself like she might’ve before. They were playing this slow, almost like–

Miles caught the guitar two inches from his face. Waiting for backup was smart, but they were all on a timer. And they were still wearing kiddy gloves around him. Their mistake. 

Miles tossed a grenade at the group. They all jumped back, expecting an explosion, not the mass of webbing splattering in all directions. It wouldn’t hold them for long, so he had to act fast. He grabbed his spikes, one for each. Like fish in a barrel, or flies in a web. 

Gold flashed in his peripheral, whipping around him and binding his arm to his chest. Fucking– Spiders were supposed to be solidary animals.

Miles tore through the webbing, but not before Gwen’s fist made contact with his face. He struggled to avoid Peter B’s web and Hobie’s guitar, nearly stumbling over his own feet. The worst part was that he knew they were holding back. He couldn't even retaliate, too busy ducking and dodging, and even that he was failing. Too slow, too weak, too messy. 

Peter B finally landed a solid hit, sending Miles sprawling in the grass. Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie scattered around him, each dropping a small device. Three, same as the one they’ve been trying to coral Mr. Ohnn in. Shit. 

Miles scrambled to get up, but it was too late. Red encased him. His fist slammed into it. Nothing. He growled. A venom strike didn’t change that outcome. He punched it again before laying his palm on it and sending a surge of electricity into it. Still nothing. 

“Miguel wasn’t kidding. It’s completely nullifying his bioelectricity,” Peter B said. 

“Is something wrong with him? He’s like a wild animal,” Pavitr said. 

Miles screamed, dragging his claws along the wall; it amounted to nothing but sparks. Electricity filled his core. Fury flowed through his veins. Not good enough. Never good enough. He would never be good enough. HE WAS NOT ENOUGH.

Energy surged out of him, crashing against the walls of his prison, cracking against the red panes. His ears were ringing. His teeth ground together as his body tensed like a live wire. His chest was tight. It was hard to breathe. His heart pounded against his ribs. The Spiders were yelling. 

Then nothing. 

Miles fell to his knees. All that and the cage still stood around him. His mask dissolved to make it easier to take in lungfuls of air. His breathing was ragged. He stared up at the others that stared back with apprehension. “Gwen?” Confusion laced his voice. “Peter?” 

“Miles?”

He frantically scanned the red walls for flaws. “Wha– What’s going on?”

“Miles!” Gwen jumped forward, pressing a hand to the wall. 

He flinched back. “No.” His eyes flickered between her and the cage surrounding him. “Let me out!”

“Woah, Miles–” Peter B stepped up. 

“Not again! Don’t do this to me again!” 

“Ey, maybe we listen to ‘im, yeah?” Hobie suggested. 

He started hyperventilating. “Not again.”

“Uh guys, he doesn’t look so good,” Pavitr added. 

“Ok, ok!” Peter B grabbed a device off his belt. “Calm down, we’re getting you out.” He pressed a button and the walls started dissolving. 

Miles straightened. 

“No! Don’t!”  Too late Miguel.

Before the shields could reengage, Miles’ claws caught the edges of the opening and tearing it wide. With the cage breached and the beating it took from him earlier, the next surge of electricity shattered it. He webbed the controller out of Peter B’s grip, turning it over in his hands. 

Miles giggled to himself. “I can’t believe you fell for that. Hey Mr. Ohnn, catch!” He tossed the controller over his shoulder, a black portal appearing to snatch it out of the air. He picked up one of the three devices as another portal opened up underneath him, landing him next to Mr. Ohnn. 

“Had your fun?” Mr. Ohnn asked. 

“You could say that.”

The Spiders that were chasing Mr. Ohnn were portaled away as they dove for him. “Time to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Miles!” Gwen stepped forward. “Don’t go! Whatever he’s telling you is a lie!”

He raised a brow. “Oh really?” he asked, amused. 

“He's brainwashing you!” Pavitr said. 

Miles snorted. “I think there’s been a big misunderstanding.” He patted Mr. Ohnn’s shoulder to get him to step back. “I chose this. In fact, this was my idea.”

The Spiders exploded into chatter. 

“Misunderstanding?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Miles!” 

“You wouldn’t choose this!”

“That’s exactly what a victim of brainwashing would think!”

Miguel was the only one that remained quiet, assessing. Funny that. Miles half expected the man to try and maul him again. “Your idea?” 

Miles opened his arms wide. The chaos of the Spiders fighting the villains surrounded them. The city picked apart atom by atom behind him. People screaming. Fires burning. The world dying. “To destroy the multiverse.” Silence. Disbelief clear on their masks. 

The horror on Peter B’s naked face was vindicating. Who knew being a villain could feel so good. “No,” his voice was small, energy sapped from him.  

Miguel had a furrow in his brow, a look of constipation. “You’ve killed trillions.”

Miles’ grin was as sharp as a knife. “Dozens of universes.” He met Miguel’s eyes with the familiar glee of tagging a pristine wall with his art. “It turns out you were right. It’s so easy for it to all fall apart.”

There was fury in Gwen’s eyes, vitriol burning into Mr. Ohnn. “What did you do to him?!” 

“I didn’t–”

Miles raised a finger over his shoulder to silence Mr. Ohnn. “I’m trying to do my villain monologue, and you’re talking to him?” He shook his head. “The disrespect.”

Gwen pulled off her mask, her expression pleading with him to see reason. “This isn’t you, Miles!”

“You don’t know me!" he said, with a snarl on his lips and disgust in his eyes. "You never did. We knew each other for what? A week?” He laughed. Was it normal for him to get such amusement from the anguish of people he once considered friends? “I’ve been with the Spot for way longer.” 

“Miles, you’re a hero.” Peter B’s brows creased with desperation. “You’re Spiderman.”

A sharp laugh forced its way past his throat. Miles shook his finger at them. “That’s funny. No. No, I’m not.” He grinned, all teeth. His eyes met Miguel’s. “What was it you said? I was never meant to be Spiderman.” He shook his head like he was recalling a fond memory. “I see now you were right.”

Miguel looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Miles–”

“You helped me realize a lot of things about myself, Miguel.” 

The mangled corpses of the Spiders surrounded them. 

“You were right. I’m not Spiderman.”

The screams of the glitching villains echoed in their ears.

“I never really was.”

The city fell silent. 

“I was never supposed to be a hero.”

No more screaming. No more fires. No more sirens. 

“So thank you for the course correction.”

Only the distorted trill of the quantum hole.

“I’m an anomaly.”

The sky died in yellow and oranges. 

“I’m The Anomaly.”

The world shattered by his hands. 

“And you can address me as such.” 

Miles patted Mr. Ohnn on the shoulder, indicating he was ready to leave. A black warbling portal opened up behind him. 

“You step through that portal, Miles, and there’s no turning back.” Miguel’s brows were creased, he could see it through the mask. 

Gwen dragged herself back home from a mission with the Spider Society. She tried to insert herself in as many missions as possible if it involved an anomaly. A part of her foolishly hoped she would see Miles, but she doubted Miguel would authorize her if he did pop up again. 

I’m The Anomaly, and you can address me as such.

Nearly a week had passed since then and there had been no sign of Miles nor the Spot. Miguel was pissed that her, Pav, and Hobie showed up. But even he couldn’t really complain after Peter B insisted that they saved him from Miles. Buuuut, he got angry all over again when he remembered they were the ones to convince Peter B to let Miles out of the containment unit. 

I can’t believe you fell for that.

She didn’t know what to believe. Miles would never–

You never really knew me.

Maybe there wasn’t anything to believe, only the truth. Miles was working with the Spot for revenge. She never thought– 

She never wanted it to be this way. She didn’t want to hide from Miles, but with everything going on back then… She was just trying to survive. The Society had become her new home and even with her flaws, they accepted her, so why shouldn’t she accept them along with all theirs. 

And as much as it pained her to admit, she benefited where Miles lost. Seeing him breakdown, weeping into the shoulder of his father’s cooling corpse, pushed her to go see her own father. Even if reconciliation wasn’t possible, just to see him… She missed him. 

When she had landed back on Earth-65, she found her father was still very much alive and well. He had quit being police captain and he wasn’t going to arrest her and he wanted to support her and she was still his baby girl and he still loved her. 

Gwen had crashed into him in a hug, having to mentally remind herself to keep her strength down, so that it wouldn’t be bone crushing. For as much as she put on a devil may care persona, she had missed him.

Gwen landed on the wall outside her bedroom and crawled inside. The smell of dinner wafted under her nose. Spaghetti and meatballs. With a pep in her step she swung the door open, freezing at the sight of the person standing in the middle of her kitchen. 

Miles had a bowl in one hand and a fork in the other. “Hey,” he said with a dopey smile. He was taller than she remembered. Guess when the only chance you get to see someone is in battle, you don’t really get a chance to fully take stock of them. In the light of her living room, she could see his artistic hand in the design. The sleek black with the dash of color really screamed Miles Morales. 

Then it had to be a more elaborate brainwashing, if it was brainwashing to begin with... I chose this. In fact, this was my idea. 

“Hope you don’t mind,” Miles stepped towards her, “got kind of hungry and your dad made plenty.”

Her brain struggled to keep up. “Where’s my dad?”

“Out,” was his simple response. He sat at the dining table and started twirling his pasta. “But hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

“Where’s…” 

“The Spot?” He gestured for her to sit. “Not here. I wanted to do this on my own, ya know?”

Yeah, maybe she did. No Miguel, no Peter B asking all the questions and controlling the flow of conversation. “Sure.” She took the seat across from him. “What did you want to talk about?”

He finished chewing before answering. “Not hungry?”

Yes. “Not really.”

“If you say so.” He chomped on another forkful. “So, I noticed your dad’s still alive.” 

She looked down at her lap, guilt freshly brought to the forefront. “Yeah.”

“And you’re living with him again.”

“Yeah, we talked it out.”

“That’s nice.” 

“Yeah.” This was not much of a conversation. Maybe this was why Peter B was in charge of talking. 

“I’m surprised the Society hasn’t killed him yet”

“That’s not what we do!” indignation clear in her voice. 

“Sure, sure.” He stabbed a meatball. “So how is he alive? Because if I recall correctly, wasn’t he a police captain?”

“Yeah.” How eloquent, Gwendolyn. 

Miles laughed. “This isn’t much of a talk.” He kept eating, waiting for Gwen to continue.

She fidgeted in her chair. “He quit,” she murmured. “After I left with the Spider Society, he resigned as police captain.” She shrugged. “We think it was a loophole in the canon.”

Miles’ fork scraped against the bottom of the nearly empty bowl. “Is that so?”

Her lips twisted, anxious. “Listen, Miles. I know a lot happened, but this isn’t the way to go about it.”

“I disagree.”

“Miles, you’re a hero. You saved the multiverse!”

“I’ve collapsed enough universes to negate that title.” He got up to put the bowl away in the sink. 

“I get that you’re angry, but–”

“I’m past angry, Gwen. This whole thing feels natural.” He waved his hand around searching for the word. “It’s meditative.”

“The Miles I knew wouldn’t have done this!”

He rolled his eyes. “I said it last time, didn’t I? You don’t actually know me.”

She shot out of her chair. “No! I mean– yes, but you’re my friend! And it doesn’t matter if it was one week or ten years, we’re friends!”

He chuckled. “Maybe in another life. Have you told any of the other Spiders I’m here?”

“No, I haven’t.” If this was some sort of test, she’d do her damnedest to pass it. If there was even the smallest chance she could get Miles to come back from this. She had to try.

“Cool. Wanna swing around for a bit?”

“Yeah, ok.” She left her mask on the dining table, chasing after Miles as he flung himself out the window. She hurried, not wanting to lose sight of him. He flipped lazily into a swing. “Still use webs even if you’re not Spiderman?” It comes out teasing, but there was still a hint of hope in her voice; that maybe the Miles she knew was still in there deep down. 

“Sure, even if that’s not who I am anymore, might as well take the useful stuff with me.” He said as if he was moving onto college instead of becoming a murderous villain. “I thought about trying out like a metal grapple wire instead, I’d never run out and we’d never have to make pit stops to make more, but the properties are different and–”

“Less reliable to stick?”

“Yeah, exactly!” He hopped from streetlamp to streetlamp. “We considered making it with nanotech to mitigate that, but there’s just somethings you can’t do without it being webs, ya know?”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“I mean, we’re brainstorming some things, workshopping some stuff. I guess it is better to move away from the Spider motif.”

Gwen frowned. “Because you’re not Spiderman anymore?”

Miles smiled. “Because I’m not Spiderman anymore.” He let his next swing arch up, flinging himself high into the sky, and twisting as he reached his apex. He whooped and did a twirl. “I missed this!” he said over the rushing winds. “I don’t get to swing like this as much as I used to!”

“Why not?” Did the Spot keep him from returning to his Spiderman roots? Was the Spot telling to move away from being more like Spiderman?

“Swinging is fun, but portaling is more efficient.” He relaxed into the freefall. “And when we’re scouting, the swinging gives me away.”

“Scouting?”

“Stealing tech, stalking the universe’s Spider, breaking into Alchemex, things like that.”

Her heart sank. It soured the atmosphere. He just had to remind her that he was very much still a villain. She had to remind herself of that too. This wasn’t a simple friendly visit from Miles.

“So instead of being a hero and saving lives, your day to day has become stealing?” Bitterness evident in her voice.

It didn’t put him off his good mood. “Yes and no. Mr. Ohnn’s teaching me a lot too.”

“Like what? How to look ugly in cargo shorts?” 

Miles laughed. “I told him to get an actual suit; he looks stupid running around with me, but hey, the man made his choices.” The blue moonlight reflected off his cheekbones as he grinned. “But I’m learning a lot about physics and mechanical engineering from him too. It’s really interesting!” 

She raised a brow. “He has time to teach you physics?”

“We move around a lot, but we take breaks and work on things.”

Yeah, that made sense. Miles and Spot– well, maybe not the Spot, was still human. He still had needs. Maybe she can make him feel like she was a safe space, that if anything went bad with the Spot he could always come back to her. “I can see that. Your suit is nice.”

“Thanks! I designed it myself!” Miles grinned from ear to ear, genuine joy, unlike the one filled with resentment last time she saw him. 

It pulled a smile out of Gwen. This was Miles. This was her Miles. “Of course you did.”

“Of course I did. I mean, have you seen Mr. Ohnn’s fit? Can barely let the man pick his own clothes.” Miles nearly fell off his line with how hard he was laughing. 

It was infectious. Gwen caught the giggles along with him. “You’re the only one who can do something about it.”

He scoffed. “A grown man should not need me to dress him.”

Miles’ eyes practically glittered in the moonlight. He was so alive swinging in the night streets of her New York. The reflective windows of the skyscrapers only had eyes for them. Their movements were fluid, so clearly in their element of concrete and crowded skylines. They were so obviously Spiders. Miles was Spiderman and his denial could not change that.

“Miles,” her voice carried through the crisp air. “Is this really you?”

“Of course it’s me, what are you talking about, girl?” He shoved her shoulder. 

It nudged her off course, but her experience helped her keep her arc. “Are you sure you’re not brainwashed or mind altered or some sort of memory tampering?” she pleaded. “Because– because–”

“Because I feel more like the me you knew?” He smiled at her with a familiar warmth. “That’s the point. I need you to understand that this, that everything I’ve done, that everything I will do, has been done by this me you see now.” He pulled himself forward, getting ahead of her. 

She copied him to keep up. “But what if that’s what the Spot wants you to think?”

“Gwen, when I saw him again, I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t scared. I didn’t feel anything.” Miles’ eyes were bright, his face expressive, like the Spot finding him was a good memory as opposed to horrifying. “Before I met him again, I was just,” he struggled for the word, “numb to everything. But the thing that made me feel something for the first time in months was Miguel.”

Her brows furrowed. “Miguel?”

“Yeah. Just the thought of him made me pissed.” His features remained soft, like the memory was fond rather than rage inducing like the words implied. “So I asked the Spot if he was down to work together.” He shot her a grin over his shoulder. “Obviously he agreed.”

“That’s it?” Gwen asked incredulously. Being pissed at Miguel warranted all this? He had killed billions and for what? 

“What? You were expecting more?”

“Miles, you were Spiderman. You are Spiderman,” she was stern, mimicking something her father would say. “And you’ve hurt people. I get that you’re hurt and that we did you wrong, but that doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.”

“I don’t expect it to. If you’d seen me…” His voice strained. “I was always going to become a villain, Mr. Ohnn just helped me aim that aggression.” Miles launched off the side of the building. 

Gwen had to make a sharp turn not to lose him. “I know that it’s a hard ask, Miles, but–” How does she word this without sounding like an asshole? “I’m not saying to forgive us right off the bat, but at least let us try to earn it. Not for us, but for yourself. This isn’t you.”

He cackled. “I guess that’s what happens when you run out of positive role models in your life.” He finally touched down in front of a building, turning on his heel to face her. The joy from his face earlier, hardened into a stare that pinned Gwen in her place. “My Peter Parker was going to teach me, but he was killed because of canon.” Words hissed as he forced out every word through teeth. “My uncle was the one person who supported my artistic vision, and canon killed him.” His voice teetered on a yell.  “Peter B left me and even when he had the chance to come see me, he chose not to.” His lips peeled back in a snarl. “My father was the only good man I had left in my life, and canon killed him!” Fury burned in his eyes. His gloves creaked in her ears as he clenched his fists at his sides. “My mom was the last piece of my heart left AND THEY TOOK HER FROM ME!”

Gwen stood frozen. Miles' chest heaved, his eyes wild. He shifted in her direction. She recoiled. His pupils dilated. Predator spotting prey. He took one deep breath and reset his posture. A manic grin spread across his face, one that matched the fake one he spray painted on his mask. 

“I’m glad I got to see you again, Gwen. I’m glad I got to see all of you that day,” Miles said, eyes alight with venom. “I had become stagnant. I was just collapsing universes hoping for, what? To hurt someone? Everyone?” He scoffed. “I don’t want to just hurt anyone.” He smacked his forehead, replicating the moment it dawned on him. “Seeing you all, it reminded me of that. It reminded me why I’m doing this.” He chuckled. “I hate you.” He took one step forward. She took one step back. “I hate all of you. And I’m going to make you suffer.”

“Miles–”

He held up a finger. “Nuh ah uh. Villain monologue.” He gestured behind them. “Do you know where we are, Gwen?”

Her eyes trailed up the building, horror filling her brick by brick. The air left her lungs when they finally landed on the yellow glow of the clock at the very top. No. Oh no. Her muscles locked. Her feet froze in place. 

“Did you know that about 75% of the multiverses’ Gwens die here? At least the ones I’ve observed.” He stepped closer. The light from the clocktower outlining him in a halo. 

She dropped into a fighting stance, every centimeter of her skin crawling. This was not good. The situation spun out of control and she needed backup. 

Miles raised his hands up placatingly. “I’m not here to fight, Gwen. I’m here to set things right, because I care.”

She brought her watch behind her back and pressed the emergency button. 

“That’s fine.” 

How did he know?

“But your dad doesn’t have a lot of time left.” 

Dread filled her gut. “What did you do to him?!”

“Well, nothing if you manage to save him.” He was grinning. It was wrong. It didn’t suit his face. Not like the easy smiles. He pointed up. “You have a minute. Your father’s at the top.” He gave her a cheeky wink. “Go save him.”

“If you think I’m stupid enough–!” She launched herself to the door, but her head smacked into an invisible field. She stumbled back onto her ass. “Wha–?”

“I know you’re not stupid, Gwen. I know you’ve seen this play out a hundred times.” He hovered over her. “I have too.”

She wasn’t going to fall for it. She knew going up there would essentially kill her dad. She ran around the building trying to find another weakness. Her hand bounced off the forcefield. Ok, a window. She tried to web up to a window, but her web bounced off too. 

“Forty seconds.”

There had to be some sort of emitter somewhere, but she couldn’t see anything that could be one. She swung around the building twice, looking for whatever was keeping her from getting in there. But nothing. There was nothing. 

“Twenty five.”

Anxiety caught in her throat. “No.”

“Yes.” Miles appeared next to her staring up at the top. “Twenty.”

“Don’t do this, Miles!”

“Then get up there.”

“Miles!” 

“Eighteen!”

She launched herself up. She webbed the ledge, landing next to the skylight. Her father’s blue eyes met hers, lighting up with hope. “Dad!”

“Gwen!” His cuffed hands reached out to her. 

The line holding her father cut. He fell. He was falling. An explosion, the beams rattled, and metal fell loose. Gwen smashed through the skylight. Her father’s eyes grew wide. Worry creased his brows like desperation drew hers. She still had eyes on her dad. She could do this. She had to do this. 

She kept her hands at her side. Reduce wind friction. Fuck the webs, that never worked out for any of the other Gwen Stacys. Catch him. Absorb the force in the fall. Cradle his head and neck. DON'T LET ANYTHING SNAP. 

Gwen pushed off gears. She was gaining on him. He reached out his hands to her. Catch him! Anything that fell on top of them she could tank. It didn’t matter if the whole building collapsed on her. She could take it. She just had to catch him. Just catch him! CATCH HIM. 

The ground was fast approaching. She reached out to him. Hope. In his eyes and hers.  She could do this. She was so close. So close. Just reach him. REACH HIM. 

The tips of their fingers brushed. She got this. She had him. She had him!

The slightest pressure hit the back of her left calf. Her hand closed around air. Her father’s eyes widened. The ocean blue was so vivid. A crack echoed throughout the clocktower. Gwen remained suspended in the air. The metal debris crashed around her, around her dad. 

Ah. His body shouldn’t be bent that way.

The line holding her up snapped. She failed to catch herself, crashing into her dad’s still body. She scrambled to push herself up onto fours. “Dad?” She couldn’t even hear the squeaked words escape her. 

She lifted her hand to touch his cheek. The white of her suit came up red. Her hands shook. “Dad.” His head– His eyes– Where did the ocean blue go? They were dull looking past her. No. Not him. Not him too. Don’t take him too.

Miles’ feet didn’t make a sound as he landed. His boots disturbed the red pool around her as he approached. He crouched down next to her. He patted her shoulder twice in false sympathy. 

No. No he– Miles– He wouldn’t. Her dad wasn’t– He was going to be fine. Miles just did this to scare her. He wasn’t– This wasn’t–

Blood seeped into the fabric of her knees. Her hand felt stiff with drying blood. Her father’s crusting blood. Her father’s chest wasn’t moving. She was scared to bring her hand up to feel for a pulse. “No,” she croaked. “No. No. No.” 

His blond hair was stained with red. Splattered around his head in a morbid crown. “Dad,” the hoarse plead begged for the impossible. 

Miles grabbed her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. His honeyed brown eyes, usually so filled with life, were stone cold. “Mourn him like I mourned mine and understand why forgiveness was never an option.”