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w33nies · 3 months ago

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Qué Maravilla CH.13- 'Somewhere That's Green '

Previous Chapter Miguel O'hara x SpiderReader rating: E for Everyone bby warnings: Aplogies in advance for this shit is long as fuck. I didn't know where to cut it because I have attachment issues. hella use of google translates + angst, bad words + proofreader? I hardly know her summary: exposition + dramaaaaaaa

------------ Ch.13 - Somewhere That's Green -----------

Miguel O’hara could barely hear himself think. Odd considering how it was currently deathly quiet in the lab. This lab that was full of traitors and strangers. His divided attention was to blame for that. Here he lay on the ground, flat on his stomach mere inches away from the source of his plight.The stubborn walking, talking thorn that had been lodged in his side for the past who-knows-how-many-hours. Who could’ve predicted that this a short-sided, naive little boy would pose such an imminent threat to the sanctity of the entire multiverse? Or that just when he had him, things would go from horribly wrong to horribly worse. That at the most inconvenient time humanly imaginable Doc Ock, of all people, had to show up and. Or that when he finally had Miles Morales in his clutches, their tussle would send a multiversal-travel-watch tumbling straight into the hands of said super villain. (One that Hobie had brought with him, he thought to add. So really it was his fault, not Miguel’s for manhandling a teenage boy ).

Of course. Of course. Of fucking course. Just what he needed. More fuel for the fire that was his scalding migraine.

Notice how he said more. There would be no inferno to contribute to if it weren’t for his second conundrum…

Miguel was off his rapture and his body was not about to let him forget it. How long ago was it since his last dose? He holds his head in his hand as he strains to do the math in his head. Though quickly gives up. It simply didn’t matter anymore. ‘Too long’ was the only answer his brain could muster through the mental fog. His head hurt so much that it practically blinded him. His body burned. Like he was sitting in a vat of lava as it slowly ate away at his muscles. He feels his forehead to confirm his suspicions. It was so hot you could practically fry an egg on that thing. When he pulls his hand away he finds palms drenched. Has he always been this sweaty? He couldn’t stop panting like a dog in a boiling car. How embarrassing. He attempts to steady himself with both palms on the ground, but finds his arms trembling as he exerts all his strength just to hold himself up.

God was Miguel tired. As a result he was succumbing to his spiraling emotions, further exasperated by the ever raising stakes. Logic and reason were slowly giving way to rashness and impulsivity. Even the proud man could admit that much to himself. There was no doubt about it.

Miguel O’hara was slipping.

Is this what dying feels like? He’s pretty sure this is what dying feels like.

“Oh where are my manners?” Jonathon turns to the group of heroes, who have all now hastily pulled on their masks at the sight of the Doctor.

“Everyone, this is Dr. Olivia Octavious. She’s the head scientist and CEO of Alchemex.” Jonathon proclaims proudly, barely able to contain his excitement in his lanky, beanstalk like body.

“She oversees the atomic research division here at. The greatest mind New York has to offer. You should know that she got hired as lead nuclear physicist at the age 23! After she graduated top of her class at-”

The woman raises her hand to stop him.

“-Jonathon. Jonathon. We've been over this. Liv or Olivia will do. Thanks for the glowing introduction nonetheless,” she chuckles pridefully “I should really have you open for me at my next conference.” The woman’s eyes shift to the feeble puppy in his hands, her gaze grows distasteful. She forces a smile through clenched teeth.

“And how did this little...bundle of joy fall into your hands.”

“Oh! That’s because of this bright young man over here.” Jonathan points to Miles Morales of Earth 1610, who is now shoving Miguel further away from him in order to come to a complete stand.

“Doc- I mean Olivia, I know you’re close with Mac Gargan, but you should know there are some egregious animal right violations happening under his-”

“-Jonathon!”

The distorted robotic tone catches the scientist off guard. He turns towards the source, Miles G. Morales of Earth 42. The boy loudly clears his throat, swiftly swiping his hand back and forth in front of his neck. The unspoken message is clear, ‘STOP TALKING.’ The move causes Dr.Octavius to raise a brow.

“Don't worry guys, it’s okay!” Jonathan places his palm over his heart in earnest. “She’s one of us. I can personally vouch for her.”

“I know. Can you just …stand over here please?” Miles-42 requests. The others hum and nod their approval, motioning for him to back away. The scientist cocks his head, not dissimilar to the manner of a confused puppy.

“What? Why? I don’t understand.”

“You and I are both Jonathon.” Ocatavious frowns as she clutches the device closer to her person, calmly striding towards the heroes. She stops just short of Miles- 42 and glares with newfound interest

“We meet again Prowler. Though, I can’t say it’s a pleasure.”

“Don’t worry, the feeling is mutual.”

“Hmm,” she hums through her displeasure. “I take it you're the one who led this group of-” she takes another disgusted look at the spiders “-foolish goons into my lab? Or do you have another lame excuse for me?”

“Funny thing, actually!” Gwen interjects with a nervous laugh. “We were actually just, uh, we were actually just heading out!”

“You are?”Jonathan and Prowler say in unison. Though only Jonathon’s disappointment is evident

“Oh, were we now?” Miles-Spiderman mumbles to aloud sardonically.

“Yep! Oh yeah! Totally! We just need uh …” Gwen points towards the watch “...that and then we’ll be out of your hair!”

Olivia scoffs incredulously, “All of this over a watch? You’re going to have to do better than that.” Octavious secures the gadget to her wrist and promptly starts fiddling with its interface. “What? Is it going to do? Allow me to walk on water? Teleportation? Or will it give me the winning lottery numbers for tomorrow?”

The entire room is inundated in an uproar. “Wait! Stop! NO! NO! NO! Don’t-”

All interjections cease as the air around the doctor suddenly warps, giving in to conjure up a portal.

Olivia stumbles backwards “What in the world?

Before her is a wormhole of sorts. Made of luminescent levitating rings. Each layer looking as though it’s been shoddily cut out from a punk rock magazine. Her breath is heavy and shaky as she creeps towards the oddity. She tentatively puts an arm in, pulling out immediately in response to the odd sensation that ensues. Olivia studies her test arm carefully, flipping it front to back as she wiggles her fingers. It seems…normal.

She then takes a step in.

“NO!”

Everyone yelps as they leap to action. You find yourself in front, running forward to grab her but missing by a mere milliseconds as she and the portal disappear in a flash. You end up clumsily wrapping your arms around thin air, looking down at your empty hands dismayed. Before you can even consider your loss, you’re immediately tackled from behind by the spiders who have also hastily ran forwards with reckless abandon. The only ones spared are Penni, who's robot comes to a screeching halt just a hair shy of the collision, and Peter who braces himself with his hands outstretched against the bodies. May Parker gurgles happily from the safety of his chest, finding excitement in the frenzy. You, Noir, Margo (Spyder-Byte), Gwen, Miles-1610, Porker, Hobie, Pavitir and even Miguel aren’t so lucky. Finding yourselves collapses on the floor in a miserable dogpile. You all groan in pain.

Suddenly, a slight buzzing noise can be heard from behind. Everyone abruptly extract themselves from the onslaught to whip around just before another portal shows. The doctor comes.

“WOW! Was that- Did I just-” She fumbles over her words, starstruck. “There were so many channels! So many alternate timelines! And I was in Brooklyn but not this Brooklyn, of course. I saw the future. I saw the past. This is-” She pauses to stare at the watch in astonishment before looking at the scientist in awe.

“-A device for dimensional travel? Jonathan? You made this?”

“I wish. It was all from these guys.” He says as he points with his thumb at the spiders.

“I see,” she pulls her wrist closer to her chest territorially. “I think I’m going to hold onto this if you don’t mind.”

“Actually we do mind.” Miguel strides forward, holding his hand out for the device. Olivia just stares at his open palm and laughs.

“I mean, It would be a shame to let such science go to waste. Science is a collaborative sport after all. ”

Miguel utters a deep guttural sigh. “Ay dios mío lady. Look, I really don’t have time for this. I need to get home and I’m going to let you in on a little secret as to why. In case you haven’t noticed…” Miguel makes a sweeping gesture to the glitching nonsense that litters their surroundings,“...The entire multiverse is in imminent danger and I am the only one here who’s even remotely willing to stop it.” He turns around to the group, but he only looks at you.

“It doesn’t have to be that way though.”

You’re unable to gauge his facial expressions for the mask. And it's a struggle to discern whether he’s singling you out as a cry for help or because of his anger. It seems he is scrutinizing you in the same fashion. The prolonged gaze you share as you both work to decipher where your relationship stands. In the next instant, O’hara abruptly clears his throat and returns his attention to Dr.Octavius.

“You can play a part in not only saving your universe, but everyone else’s. Not only for every person in this room, but for everyone and everything you care about. Please.” She continues to stare at him, unmoved. He brings his open palm closer to her with emphasis.

“If you don’t give it up I’ll have to take it from you. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. ”

“Hmmmm.” She pretends to ponder his offer, theatrically tapping a finger against her chin. “Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy…”

She directs her comment towards shadows behind her.

“...Isn’t that right, Mr.Gargan?’

It’s low, gruff voice responds. One laced with a thick Spanish accent. “Así es doctora.”

Miguel groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh, Tienes que estar bromeando.”

Slow mechanical thuds precreed the man before he steps into the light. What emerges is man or a… cyborg of sorts. Apart from his steel legs, each technological addition was decidedly non-human. His left arm was replaced with a metal lobster-like claw, and from his back a massive scorpion tail with a stinger that sits high above his head. All of which were composed of a series of mechanical plates, colored in a shade of green so dark it bordered on black. His human real estate was littered with dark tattooed markings, like the kind you would find on a poisonous insect, trailing from the bellybutton to his neck. His buzz cut head is the only unaltered part of him. (You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you or not, but the markings appear almost…fluorescent in the dingy light.) To top it all off, he sports a black leather jacket with metal spikes and ripped denim shorts that stop at the knees.

“Aye dios mio.” The man huffs, lifting up his giant Spruce colored leg to kick a piece of the rubble off his path.

“Look at all the mess.” He lets his arms fall limply to his side in exasperation, pausing to cast a scrutinizing eye to the intruders. The sea of spider emblems and distinctly colored morph suits mar his rough face with distrust. He laughs scornfully at the sight.

“I don’t suppose these are any of your men, Sergei?” he speaks towards the entire room, though clearly not talking to any of its occupants.

“Hah! You are correct bug.” The deep, husky voice responds from the cover of the shadows. Its tonality being distinctly Eastern European.

Scorpion scowls, “I told you not to call me that.”

The disembodied voice emits a deep booming laugh.

“It is true, no?”

The voice’s holder presents himself to be a large imposing man, easily surpassing Gargan’s towering frame by a good several inches. His long dark hair slicked back to reveal a striking face, complete with an unruly, yet maintained full beard and mustache. He sports a vest of his own. Though his is composed of both brown leather and gray steel. The collar is fully lined with animal fur, almost mane-like with the face of a lion etched onto its front. On his hairy chest rests a necklace made of large beast-like teeth. Long metal wrist cuffs cover his forearms, adorned with bones. In a similar fashion, small animal skulls cover his knees and elbows like braces, secured with an abundance of twine. His cargo pants are held up with a well equipped utility belt, including a pair of excessively large knives that sit atop hip.

“No. That is in fact not true,” Scorpion asserts defensively. “You have disappoint me, Kraven. I thought feral swine such as yourself would know all of the laws of nature.”

“What is it I call you then? Insect? Worm? Vermin?” The bearded man jests, struggling to contain his amusement.

“NO! Scorpions are- they’re- I don’t know-”

Kraven roars with laughter, courteously patting the bumbling Scorpion on his back as he strides forward. Leaving Gargan a stuttering, angry mess behind him.

Sergei takes a big, dramatic whiff of the air as he leisurely strolls around the room. Eyes closed and arms ever so slightly stretched out as one would do when inviting the sweet comforting sensation of sunlight. After making his rounds, he kneels to methodically run his fingers over the claw marks embedded in the ground. (Battle marks. From a beast perhaps?)

He diligently digs through the slew of rubble, pausing abruptly in it’s midst. He yanks a thin cable from the debris with a snap and inspects the gadget on his open palm. He scoffs, shoving the mystery contraption in his pockets.

He feels around the leftover spider web residue, which leaves a sticky substance on his thumb and forefinger. He finds himself pinching them together then pulling them apart with decent resistance as if dipped in a strong adhesive.

Finally, small crimson drops on the ground catch his eye. He lightly dips his hand in the substance, admiring the way it sits on his fingertips. (Fresh blood,Superficial wound). First he brings his fingers to his nose to smell. (Metallic,Type: O+) Then brings the substance to his mouth and tastes. The room is full of audible gags as the man smacks his lips thoughtfully.

(Human blood, Zero traces of drugs).

“Hmmm. I see…” Sergei mumbles to himself

Kraven gradually rises to his feet, unsheathing a large silver knife from the holster on his belt. He wipes off the damp stains of its previous use against the fur of his vest. Though he only succeeds in decorating the blade in faint red streaks.

“And what do you see Kraven?” Octavious asks like a teacher to a child, her head tilted amusedly with fingertips pressed firmly together.

Sergei brings a finger to his lips with a ‘shhhhh’ as he holds up the mic wire. A slight smile appears on his lips. “You have been…compromised.”

“Ey!?” Scorpion exclaims, baffled.

“Impossible,” The doctor derides. “Are you sure it’s not one of ours?”

“Positive.” Kraven shoots a stink eye at the spiders and the Prowler.

“That has nothing to do with us.” Miles-1610 insists, with a wave of his hands.

“I’ve literally never seen that before in my life,” Pavitir affirms with a palm to his chest and a shake of his head.

“Wired mics are so last century,” Margo quips with crossed arms.

“Maybe, ” Kraven says unconvinced. “But this…” The main points to the small details in the wreckage with his knife (outside the glitching, interdimensional, warped madness), “...This is the remains of battle and a fresh one at that.” He lifts his stained fingers, further emphasizing his point.

“All these damages, but few casualties…” he thoughtfully rubs his tinted digits together. “These will serve as formidable opponents.” He points his imposing knife towards Miguel, a sinister smile tugs at his lips.

“Leave the big one for me. I’'ve been looking for a new trophy to decorate my walls.”

Miguel O’hara frowns under his mask, straightens his posture to maintain his intimidating frame. You notice his legs slightly tremble under the stress.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to keep looking,” he huffs weakly. Without thinking, you briskly walk to his side and wordlessly steady him with a hand on his back and his arm strung around your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, but you’re sure him squeezing your bicep is his way of saying thank you.

The man cackles loudly. He quickly resumes his demeanor with a satisfied sigh, using his blade to casually pick at the dirt underneath his nails.

“Do not let my appearance of youth fool you child. I have been on this Earth for over seventy rotations. And in that time I have struck down many men. Women. Children. Even my own father. Believe me when I say, countless have stood before me as you did, claiming to be the ones to end my carnage. But alas…” The man reaches across his body and unsheaths another massive knife from it holder

“...No one has managed to escape me yet.”

The Hunter makes a show of twirling the blades at dizzying speeds with ease before seamlessly transitioning to his true fighting stance.

“Allow me to show you why.”

Olivia clears her throat loudly. “Now, Now, Kraven..”

The rugged man mumbles a series of curses in his native tongue, rolling his eyes as he begrudgingly turns his head around. “Now, now what woman?”

“Let’s hold off on the violence for now. I believe It’s imperative that we…” she pauses as she considers her choice of words“...gather Information.” She taps on the interface of the watch she holds hostage. “I myself have some questions I would like answered. The fight comes after.”

“What good is information for me?” Kraven opens his vest, showing off a sash with numerous vials of bright green serum vials that sit just above his right hip. Rapture vials. Miguel stiffens at the sight, it takes everything in him not to pounce on the man right then and there.

“With this, I take down whole army if I want to. What use is negotiation to one with power? You ask me to waste my time?”

“I…Have to…I need to…Get. That.” Miguel murmurs in shaky breaths, jutting his chin towards his drug of choice.

“Miguel. No.” You whisper back vehemently, “What if it’s not the same? How do you know it won’t kill you?”

He only responds in desperate pants. His eyes glued to the small ampoules of bright green.

“Part of the hunt involves strategy.” Olivia reprimands sternly. “With a name like ‘Kraven the Hunter’ I figured it was you whole M.O. but well, maybe all those enhancements I’ve been giving you have gone to your poor little head.” She provokes with a condescending laugh.

“You dare to lecture me about strategy?” Sergei snaps with a scowl that bares his front teeth. “I have tamed nature itself. I am on the verge of conquering the human will. Soon enough, once this city of fools chose me for leader, no?”

“Sí claro,” Scorpion scoffs. “Only because I pull the strings for your little campaign.”

“We pulled.” Doc Ock corrects, shooting a stink eye at Gargan before continuing. She purposefully talks lower now so the others in the room have to strain to hear. “And if you want to keep it that way, you’re going to do what I tell you to. You know why? Because you’re replaceable. I can make any puppet I want into the Mayor. You know that right?”

“Puppet? Oh, no no no. You are mistaken.” Kraven opens his mouth for further retort, before shutting it soon after. He strokes his beard with an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, I guess this puppet will have no choice but to go to the press. Tell them about everything, they’ll listen to anything I say. You know that… right?”

Olivia frowns for a minute before relenting. “Fine. For now.” She closes the gap between them to loudly whisper in his ear. “Just know if you speak to me like that again, I’ll put you down like the dog you are.”

“Only a fool such as yourself would try and teach a learned one.” Kraven growls in her face.

“Speaking of a perro,” Scorpion digresses, pointing at the dog in Jonathons hands. “That belongs to me.”

The scientist pulls the pup away “Uhhh. I-I don’t think so?” he sputters nervously.

“Don’t be estúpido princessa. Look under the ear. What do it say? Something like, subject -24DD huh?” Jonathon checks the flap under the ear. Sure enough, in purple faded ink ‘subject - 24DD.’

The clawed man smiles knowingly, “That means it’s mine.”

“NO! You’re going to kill him!” exclaims Jonathon, retreating further away . The Prowler subconsciously inches toward the confrontation out of alarm.

“Kill him? Of course not. It’s too valuable to kill.”

Jonathan doesn’t budge despite his survival instincts going into overdrive. He can feel the dog tremble and whimper in his arms. “He’s not an it. You’re- you’re sick, you know that?”

“I’m sick? Imagine me. Sleeping at home asleep in soundly in bed only to be woken up by so many alarms that I think I in the Purge. Only to see that some morons not only have trashed my lab-”

“-our lab-” Octavious interjects.

“-but you have also cut power to my testing area and released and kidnapped my test subjects.”

Miles sucks on his inner cheeks, puckering his lips with regret. He re when he threw an electric charged punch to the control panel to free the animals. ‘Damn,’ he silently curses ‘Maybe I probably should’ve been more careful.’

“Well I say good!”

“Well, what do you rather do huh? How about you get dog and I get the pig to use?” Gargan laughs loudly at his own proposition. “It has been long while since I’ve had any pork.”

“You don’t deserve pork!” Porker cries, jumping onto Noir’s shoulder for higher ground and shaking his tiny fist in the air

The hunter chuckles as he reclines on a pile of debris, nonchalantly scraping at the excess calluses on his hands

“Your pleas of mercy amuse me. Tell me, does the mutt not have worse chance if outside in the city? Isn’t it a… how-do-you-say-in-English,” Kraven twirls his knife as he translates the words in his head. “...Ah! It is a natural selection, no? Here at least we concoct plan to make him stronger. A beast worthy of the hunt. An valuable tool for war.”

Olivia sighs unenthusiastically, “I hate to agree with him but does have a point Jonathon.”

“Dr.Octavius!!!”

“Would you prefer we use human subjects? Would you volunteer yourself or your family for such a cause? ”

“Well- I mean-no-” Ohnn stammers “But that doesn’t mean someone else won't! I mean-”

“-Jonathon we all have to do unsavory things sometimes for the sake of innovation. The Sciences require, for lack of a better word… sacrifices, Mr Ohnn. Sometimes it’s time, sometimes it’s money, sometimes it’s lives. Most of the time, it’s all of the above. It is a necessary evil, but the ends justify the means.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, putting on her best display of sympathy.

“So please Mr.Ohnn, give Gargan his dog back.”

Scorpion walks towards Jonathon, arms outstretched ready to receive, but Jonathan once again turns away

“No me pruebes, cabrón.” Scorpion threatens with narrowed eyes

Jonathon looks down at the puppy in his arms. He’s shocked to find that at some point in the chaos, the dog has fallen asleep. It’s bandaged eye nestled in the crook of his neck as it snores softly. He mulls over his options with the creature in his sights. Giving up the pup was a guaranteed death sentence, but what would they do to him? Sure they had them outnumbered now, but there was always after. After everyone left. After everyone goes home to their respective lives and he’s left to his own devices. What would they do to him once wasn’t protected anymore? What about after? Nobody ever thought about it after.

Jonathan Ohnn exhales the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His shoulders relax as he closes his eyes. This headstrong meekness of his was exactly why he had a hit out on him in the first place. He was already a dead man walking.

But if he is going to die regardless, he’d rather dig his own grave then be left to rot.

“No.” Jonathan finally asserts. Under the villains’ vicious gazes the scientist immediately shrinks into himself.

“I’m sorry but I-I can’t give him up. You can’t have him.”

Olivia Octavious scowls. “Jonathon, you have a bright career to look forward to. I’d hate to have to take… disciplinary action over a mutt.” She laughs, the notion sounding ridiculous even to herself.

Jonathan takes a nervous gulp. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you hurt another animal.”

Prowler now stands right at Jonathon’s side. Miles and all other spiders circle closer behind them..

Olivia’s eye twitches fervently, “Is this some kind of joke?”

“Nope.” Prowler holds the briefcase up high in the air and pulls out one of it’s brightly colored vials.

“Missing something?”

Octavious' face turns vicious. “Why you-” she tries to grab it but halts at the sound of another voice.

“And this!” On the other end of the room, Miles holds up the goober. Octavious, Scorpion and Kraven squint at it dubiously

“You threaten us with a… a SD Card?” Gargan asks with genuine confusion

“Does the name Peter Parker ring a bell?”

The eyes of the three criminals all widen in shock.

“I have everything on here. The confessions, the documents, everything.”

“We’ll leak it!” Miles G. shouts, so intensely that the distorter in his helmet takes on a new grating frequency. “Everyone will know exactly the kind of people you all are. Your careers will be over.”

The villains stand there in a stunned silence, though the doctor is quick to regain her composure.

“Do it.”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

She apathetically drops her lab coat and ties her hair in a high messy bun. Suddenly, long tentacles-like appendages begin to extend from her back. Each shooting out heedlessly in different directions like large limbs in desperate need of stretching.

“Look out!” Prowler grabs Jonathan, shoving him out of harm's way. Everyone else frantically scurries around to avoid being hit.

When Jonathon unshields his face he sees a woman suspended a good few feet in the air, held up by a series of gargantuan rubber insulated robotic tentacles stemming from her back. Green goggles sit over her eyes, totally obscuring them. The smile on her face is menacing

“Liv don’t tell me you- you’re-”

“-Don’t call me Liv. ” she calmly reproaches, her fists clenched at her sides as she glares downward at the timid man.

“Call me Doc Ock.”

Scorpion and Kraven assume defensive positions behind her, their respective weapons are barred in hostility.

“I told you so.” Prowler chides in a not-so-subtle murmur to the scientist.

“Yo-You don’t scare me” Jonathan says apprehensively. “Once the Bugle gets wind of this they’ll-”

All the villains burst with laughter. Their loud, patronizing howls and cackles echoing off the lab's high domed ceilings.

“He take to the Bugle,” Gargan mocks in a high pitched timid voice. “Oh no! Anything but The Bugle!”

“Stupid, stupid man.” Kraven shakes his head in a manner almost sympathetic. “Who do you think owns the Bugle?”

Jonathons immediately face drops. “No…No you don’t. Y-you're lying.”

“I can see the headline now.” Doc Ock extends a hand to the sky in a sweeping motion, as in reading the words off a theater marquee. “Deranged Local Scientist Teams Up With Third Rate Villain to Undermine Brooklyn’s Beloved Elites.” She cackles loudly at her mock title.

“Uh, Uh” Scorpion shakes his head. “Too wordy.”

“We how-do-you-say… workshop it, no?” Kraven elbows Gargan payfully, both still reeling from his fit of laughter

“Well the point is…” Olivia raises her hands to redirect the straying conversation, resuming her malicious gaze directed towards the feeble man. “Noone is going to listen to a nobody like you. You’ll be laughed out of town before they even put the story to ink. You’re a joke Jonathon. Now why don’t you do the smart thing for once and hand over the stuff before we make your life a whole lot harder for you.”

Jonathan stands in place wordlessly, still as a statue as he stares at his shoes in idle contemplation. Suddenly his head snaps up with a sudden sense of urgency. He turns to face Miles Morales of Earth 1610. His free hand outstretched towards him.

“May I?” he asks. Miles reluctantly walks over and passes the goober. As he fidgets the chip in his hand. Both Miles’ hovers concernedly, blocking Jonathan from harm with their bodies. They mutter their concerns as he distractedly fiddles with it.

‘Careful. Careful. Please be careful.’

‘Ohnn-I-swear-to-god-if-you-drop-that-thing-I’m-going-to-frickin-scream.’

After a drawn out, contemplative silence. The scientist firmly grips the SD card in a tight fist. He straightens his back and holds his chin high with newfound resolve.

“Give the man his watch…” he phrases carefully, as if defusing a ticking time bomb with his words alone, “...and then you can have this chip.”

“What!?” Miles-Spiderman shouts at the same time the Prowler cries “Dude!?”

Olivia stares at the ceiling thoughtfully, “Throw in the briefcase as well and you have a deal.”

“I’d rather shit in my hands and clap.” Miles G. smacks the side off the case for emphasis as delving into a long winded flurry of insults in spanish. Much too fast for the non-native speakers in the room to catch on. Though Miles' eyes widen with an ‘Ooohhhh.’ Miguel snorts amusedly. Scorpion’s face sours.

“You think eres una mierda caliente, huh!?” Gargan leaps forward, launching his stinger directly at Prowler, who reflexively blocks it with the briefcase. The brightly colored poison from his stinger seeping down the front of the container.

“Será mejor que elijas un dios y ores,” the giant man jeers in his face through gritted teeth. Miles-42 forcefully pulls the case from the clutches of his stinger, taking a quick moment to ensure the safety of the content inside. He gives subtle sighs with relief upon seeing them still intact.

“Prowler please!” Jonathan pleads from the sidelines. “It’s not worth your life!”

“No way cabron!” He shouts, taking a swipe at Scorpions face with his steel claws, missing by mere millimeters. “We lose this, we're back at square one!”

“So this young man can go home and save his father!”

“Then what about us huh? He gets to go home and play hero while we’re left here with nothing?” Gargan makes a swing towards Miles' face, but misses. The boy immediately retaliates by smacking him in the face with the briefcase. The cyborg creature stumbles sideways from the hit.

“Then we’ll do it again! We’ll find another way to stop them! But right now we have to negotiate!”

“Negotiate with them? They’re one of the people who put a hit out on you Jonathon! They’ll kill you regardless!”

All the villains recoil in confusion. The claw hand Gargan had poised for a counter attack halts mid air.

“What?”

“Que?”

“что?”

“Well, This is news to me.” Octavious announces, utterly baffled. “Why in the world would I put a hit out on Mr.Ohnn?”

“For the collider, obviously. Don’t play dumb. He hid the blueprints and you wanted them for yourself. And you said you wanted them, and I quote, ‘By any means necessary.”

Octavious scoffs dubiously. “I will admit I was displeased by his gatekeeping of valuable information, but I did in fact not put out a hit on Jonathon. That is far too messy for my liking.” She wipes her hands on her metal corset from which her robotic arms stem, as if the mere thought stained her hands.

“What a bold-faced lie,” the boy spits.

“I could say the same about you young man.” She moves him towards via tentacle. “Tell me, how did you manage to get into this lab?”

“I snuck in. And you can thank your awful security for that. Half the officers are either asleep, or high. I practically walked in here. ”

“Right, right, so let me get this straight,” She messages her right temple with a pained expression on her face. “You had to break into my lab in order to carry out a hit I ordered for you? What sense does that make exactly? You aren’t a very good liar are you?”

The young man scoffs, tucking the briefcase under his arm defensively. “It’s not like You never liked making my job easy for me.”

“But you think I would make it harder on myself by proxy?” She guffaws. “I may be a little crazy, ” she squeezes her fingers together for emphasis. “But by no means am I that short sighted.” “Literally and figuratively.” She snorts, pointing to her goggles. She gives a long winded laugh and is the only one to do so.

“Booo!” Noir heckles.

“Get off the stage!” Peter Parker echos.

“You can lie all you want” Miles sneers, “but Prowler showed me himself-”

“-Ahh I see what this is,” she chuckles gleefully. “You’ve been double crossed by your own mentor, young man.”

Dubious, Miles G. Morales waves a finger in the air. “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. Don’t you dare try to spin this one on me-”

“-Young man, have been called many things. Mad, crazy, insane, even a killer. All of which are true I suppose. But let me tell you one thing,” she travels closer with her tentacles high in the air, before lowering herself to be face to face with his mask.

“In this line of work, no matter how thorough or strategic or exact or conniving you believe yourself to be, you can only bury so many bodies before you start leaving a trail.” She stares unforgivingly at the purple l.e.d’s where she knew his eyes sat behind.

“Of course I’m sure your mentor already told you that. Unless, god forbid, you’ve been primed to be his fall guy this whole time.’ she chuckles to herself as she turns to face the boys. 'That would explain his sudden ‘retirement’, wouldn’t it.’

Scorpion nods with a hum. Kraven proudly grunts as he crosses his arms.

That ‘retirement’ was your fault,” Miles G. fumes. “He would never do that to me. I know you think you’re slick. That you’re so smart with all your mind games, but those don’t work on me.” Even the distorter can’t disguise how his voice cracks with emotion. “I know who you are.”

“Awww.” Doc Ock coos unsympathetically “I believe you two have much to talk about later don’t you.”

Miles G. Morales seethes silently. He racks his enraged brain for a retort, but comes up empty.

“Welp, that takes care of that. Onto the next. ” Olivia dusts her hands off theatrically, shifting her gaze back and forth between the Prowler and the scientist.

“What’ll it be boys? We can get as bloody and complicated as you want, but I think you know deep down that all roads lead to Rome.”

Miles clenched fist twitches on the case. He can feel Jonathon’s pleading gaze, which he doesn’t dare return. The weight of the conversation gnaws on his chest like a parasite.

“God this is so stupid.” Miguel mumbles to himself and he holds his head in his hand. Exasperated at the thought of becoming an unwilling participant in a novela when he came here simply to do his job. He brings his hand up to his mouth to amplify his voice, “You’re an idiot if you’re actually considering negotiating with them, kid!”

Miles G. tsk’s noisily “Who the hell asked you man? Shut yo ass up, viejo!”

Miguel mumbles angrily to himself, as you pat his back reassuringly. ‘Last time I try to help somebody.'

Miles-42 once again resigns himself to his turbulent thoughts. He looks around all anxious eyes fixed on him. All bodies stiff with anticipation, ready to jump into battle if he initiated such. Being forced to unravel this conundrum in front of an expectant audience brings him a sudden feeling of claustrophobia. What was he supposed to say? What did they want him to say?

He stares down at the dented briefcase in his hands. Uncle Aaron would never set him up…would he?

With a deep sigh Miles begins opens his mouth.

“I-”

Only to find himself cut off by the sound of revving engines. Within the next instant, a blur of motorcycles soar through the air. One after another, before noisily screeching to a halt in the center of the room.

“Pues, hablando del rey de Roma, " Scorpion declares.

The caped man who dismounts his bike is clothed in shades of green and purple. The pregnant woman, who remains seated, wears red, black, and yellow. Each of their bikes are colored to match their respective color schemes.

“Jess! Where have you been?” Miguel callouts, attempting to hide how he’s using you as a crutch as he inches towards her. “I called you like a hundred times.”

“I saw,” she nods in the direction of Aaron Davis. “I was going to call you back but I was quite busy, obviously. You always had a talent for calling me at the most inconvenient time.”

He scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Everyone, including yourself, murmurs and hums in unison.

“I mean…” Peter concedes with a shrug.

“Well…” Pavitr starts.

“She’s not wrong,” Penni states.

“See, cuz I didn't want to be the one say it” Margo adds.

“Told no porkies I’m afraid,” Hobie remarks.

“I still have the scars,” Porker whispers with a shudder.

O’hara simply grumbles aloud. “Unbelieve.”

“Don’t test me Miguel. Before you stress out my baby”

Miguel raises his palm with snark, “You do 360 flips everyday on a motorcycle that can stick to walls like a tree frog. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Oh Prowler.” Olivia interjects in a sing-songy voice. “Mind answering a few questions? We need you to settle a score between us two.” She says pointing between herself and Miles G.

Aaron stiffens at the deceptively nice tone. “What do you want?” he asks in a robotic tone similar to Miles, though his is much deeper and possesses significantly much more vocal fry.

“It’s about the job,” Miles-42 explains. “About the hit she put out. She’s trying to lie and say she didn’t do it. But we know that’s not true because you showed me yourself.”

Aaron bites his lip beneath his mask as he chooses his words carefully “...That…is what I told you…”

“...But?” Olivia interjects.

Davis just sighs, “I’m sorry, Prowler.”

“You’re kidding.” The young Prowler asserts, even chuckling to invite room for dissent. Though it never comes. “You’re actually serious? Why?”

“It’s….complicated…”

“You don’t trust me? Is that it?” Miles begins raising his voice emphatically. “After everything, do you really not trust me?”

“Don’t be like that Prowler.Of course I trust you. We ride or die. You know that man.”

“So why didn’t you tell me? Am I just a scapegoat for you to fall back on.”

The elder Prowler lets his shoulder’s slump with a sigh, his head hanging from his neck dejectedly.

“Man of course not. I would never do that to you. This is for your own good.”

“Who decides that!?” Miles snaps, wildly throwing his arms in the air.

The grown man sighs once again. “I sorry, Prowler. I’ll tell you when this is all over.” He speaks with finality that sends the young Prowler’s agony over the edge.

“No! You tell me now!If it’s not these guys then who put out the hit? What do you gain by lying to me.”

But Aaron Davis just shakes his head.

“Who Prowler?” Scorpion creeps forward barring his clawed hand and his stinger poised to attack. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Aaron scans the room from top to bottom, his gaze lingering on the various pieces of tech that litter the war torn lab. “Not here man. Not now.”

Miles-42 raises his brow. “What? You didn’t let them wire you did you?”

“...Not me…” he concedes, pointing a swirling finger around the room. The villains all share looks of disbelief.

“Impossible,” Olivia sputters incredulously.

“It sure is. They offered me double to rig it myself. ”

Miles lurches toward his mentor, his claws splayed ready to fight. His voice ripe with anger. “You think I care who hears? I clean ‘em out too, all by myself if I have to.”

“Really now?” Aaron shifts his gaze to Jonathon. “Yet you couldn’t bother to finish the mission.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Miles shoves him, forcing him to back up into the bike. “Who is it?”

The elder Prowler scrutinizes the boy. He raises his hands submissively as if to surrender, before shoving Miles aside, claws bared as he makes a beeline towards Jonathon. The scientist yelps, bracing himself for the attack only for it to be intercepted by Miles-Spiderman. The young Prowler takes this moment to launch an attack from behind but Davis dodges in the knick of time, all without even turning around. Sending the young boy tumbling into his doppelganger. Davis skirts around the fallen boys toward the scientist, but is smacked in the ribs by Miles-42. By no means was it a good hit, but it didn't have to be. It was his weak spot. He deliberately targeted the injury that had forced Uncle Aaron into retirement. The elder Prowler grunts in pain, crumpling towards his injured side. Miles-1610 takes the opportunity to web his feet to the floor. Davis struggles against the restraints before he kneels to the ground of exhaustion, gingerly touching his side.

Miles activates his claw, it’s purple light running up and down its mechanical veins as it whizzes with power. The young Prowler stands tall above his uncle, looking out on him with contempt.

“Names. Now.”

Other villains circle. Still on the sidelines, but obviously hungry for action. If Miles doesn’t do him in, they surely will.

The man whispers weakly to his nephew. “Miles-”

“-Tell me!” The young man screams. “You owe me!”

Aaron lets his chin fall to his chest with a quiet exhale, “...It was all Vulture’s idea.”

Olivia tsks softly “I should’ve known.”

Scorpion's face darkens “Aye aye aye,” he mutters as shakes his head.

“Traitorous scum.” Kraven mumbles arms crossed, with each hand now possessing a death grip on the handle of each his blades.

“Who else?” The boy snarls, “You told me there were multiple.”

The man looks up apologetically at the young boy. Even though he was surrounded by some of the worst villains Brooklyn had to offer, they were not at the forefront of his mind right now. He never feared them the way others had, his greatest fear lied instead with his nephew. Not a fear that the boy would hurt or surpass him, but a fear of letting him down. A fear that had now, sitting here staring up at his broken nephew who he saw as a son, had been fully realized.

Davis lifts his head towards the young Prowler, but can’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. He runs through the list of names dryly.

“...Electro…Sandman…Mysterio and...”

“Don’t be shy. Spit it out ” The Hunter threatens brandishing his gleaming blades

Davis looks at Miles. He hoped, somehow, that the boy would be able to feel his remorse behind his vacant mask. “Prowler I-”

Miles grabs him by the collar. Aaron immediately throws his arms up to disarm the boy, but then his hands drop limply to his sides.

“...And Fisk .”

Miles drops his collar in shock. Aaron slumps to the ground defeatedly, groaning as he holds his wounded bones.

“Ahh Of course. Vulture and Electro have always been close, no?” Kraven reflects, lightly scratching his beard with his blade. “Electricity and telecoms make a fierce pair.”

“Beck always wanted to steal my recipe” Scorpion muttered, his face flushed red as he attempted to quell his simmering rage

“And they’re gonna come around here any second,” Aaron warns. “They’ll be coming for us all.”

“I’m counting on it.” Olivia remarks, reclining midair against the tentacles with a relieved stretch and a sigh. “Three against…” She takes a moment to count her opponents with her fingers, clicking her tongue as she does so, “...against twelve? It’s just so unfair don’t you think?”

Meanwhile, the young Prowler trembles with rage “...Wilson…Fisk?” he stammers. “You took a job…from Fisk?”

“Look, I know how you feel. I don’t want to work with him either but-”

“So why did you!?!” Miles-42 attempts to shove Aaron’s chest, but the man swipes his hands away.

“Since when did you become a sellout!?”

Aaron sits up straight, grunting from the pain as he does so. “Do you know what we could do with that kind of money? I could get you and your mom so far away from here-”

“And leave Brooklyn?” Miles shouts, taken aback. “Are you kidding? You’re trying to get rid of me?”

“This kinda life…things have a way of catching up to you. Physically. Mentally…Things are getting pretty bad right now, man. I just want you to lay low a bit. Get you a college fund, get a nice house in the suburbs. A girlfriend. I don’t know. Somewhere safer. Somewhere that’s green…nah, mean?”

“Suburbs? Green?”

Girlfriend?

He isn't sure which part upsets him more. The part about life he never asked for the notion that he couldn’t be the person his Uncle thought he was. The person he wanted him to be. But all of it is together is more than enough to make his heart sink like a stone.

“Something like that yeah” Uncle Aaron continues, his head bent with guilt. “I know you try to act tough like these things don’t get to you, I know you don’t want to talk about it but I know you. You don’t think I notice how you isolate yourself? How you lock yourself in your room after every job? How you stop eating? Even your mother notices. It worries her man, and honestly, it worries me too. ”

“You didn’t feel bad the first time you killed somebody? So I have some moments, but bounce back. I’m different now. I’m grown.”

The man points to Jonathon “Then what is he still doing alive? Why didn’t you finish the job? You had more than enough time. ”

Miles-42 suddenly stiffens “That has nothing to do with-

“-You don’t have the stomach for this, son.”

Miles is stunned into silence. Aaron hardly ever called him son unless he was absolutely serious.

“You’re so like your father that way. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I thought if I could make you more like me, I wouldn’t see him every time I look at you. My mistakes. My failures. How I failed to save him… I thought I was saving you and I thought the only way to do that was to make you like me. But I’m starting to realize-” he scrubs his hand down the front of his mask with a dejected sigh.

Miles G. braces himself. “...Realize what?”

“I let you down man, ” he huffs out. “You’re not built for this. I’m sorry son. You just aren’t that kind of guy.”

The young Prowler recoils violently at the assertion like a slap across the face. It takes him a second to recollect his bearings.

“I am built for this! I can do this! I didn’t come this far just for you to chicken out on me now!”

Aaron Davis raises a single finger towards the meek scientist.

“Then finish the job. Right here. Right now.”

With one look at the nervous Jonathon and the feeble puppy, the boy quickly finds his answer.

“But he hasn’t done anything wrong!” He gestures to the man passionately, “Why don't we just….go after people who deserve it?”

“Let me tell you something, son. It is a dog eat bitch world out there. You try new things, people get hurt. You keep your head down , stick to the script and play the game.” He jabs his finger into palm for emphasis. “Not knowing when to quit, that’s what got your father killed and I don’t want that for you. ”

“The Game? What if I’m sick and tired of playing.”

“Then you play it sick and you play it tired.”

In a sweeping motion, Aaron Davis kicks Miles’s ankles causing him to trip to the ground. The man then springs to his feet, making another attempt on the scientist's life. The young boy hastily grabs his leg only for Davis to kick the boy squarely in the chest. The elder Prowler is mere inches away from grabbing Jonathon when, out of nowhere, a massive sandstorm abruptly pushes him back. The cruel wind blinds the entire room. Everyone struggles to anchor their feet to the ground, squinting and covering their faces with their hands and arms. Many are skidding against the current despite themselves. The violent breeze and its particles biting against them like hundreds of tiny paper cuts.

“Look out!”

The elder Prowler dives towards Miles, just in time to save him from the massive bird-like creature barreling towards him. As the creature rises above the storm, the destructive wind suddenly ceases. Above then stands a man suspended mid air toward the ceiling, his body bobbing up and down as his wings flap to maintain the height. Each of his feathers shaped like large serrated blades, attached to a kind of backpack that would usually hold a parachute. Underneath he wears a large aviator jacket. To cover his face he wears a pilots helmet with a massive metal beak where the inhalation mask would usually be. His mouth, the only visible part of his face, sits in a large scowl.

“You’re a dead man walking, you know that Prowler?” His voice is gravelly, yet authoritative as he cracks his leather-gloved knuckles.

Nearby, a large heap of sand begins to rise, slowly taking the form of a man. His immensely robust build is shown off by a tight fighting, striped green shirt. His wide, square face grimaces with conviction as his left hand transforms into the shape of a spiked-mace ball.

The next two pairs of individuals appear at the same time. One gentleman materializes from a cloud of smoke, with a crystal ball for a head nestled on a violet, velvet floor-length cape stemming from an emerald and gold technical marvel of a suit. The other man zaps from place to place at the speed of light before settling on a spot next to the sandman. This man’s face is shrouded in a brilliant evermoving electric display in the shape of a star. His eyes glowing a bright, blinding white underneath. In a similar fashion, his clenched fists surrounded in sharp voltaic fixtures of his own doing, probably as a mindless product of his fierce demeanor. The black vest he wears is decorated with electrical wiring and lightning motifs.

The last man to enter dons a fitted police captain uniform. Black slacks and a white collar button up adorned with badges and emblems bordering on militaristic. On his sizeable, heavyset body sits a head far too small for his frame that it’s almost comical. His broad calloused hands rest on the two guns against his belt. He saunters in definitely, head held high and face riddled with immense loathing as if being forced to traverse through a landfill.

The uniformed gentleman eyes the room and it’s occupants cautiously before landing on the young Prowler. Upon seeing him, the man gives a wicked smile. Miles-42 gives a hostile stare of his own.

“Gentlemen! So glad you could all make it.” Octavious resumes her titular posture as she presses her fingertips together. “Hope it wasn’t too out of the way.”

“Skip the pleasantries with me Olivia,” Vulture chastises, spit flying from his mouth as he does so. “We all know what we’re here for.”

“Look around you Adrian. You’re clearly outnumbered. Despite us having an obvious score to settle, the odds are significantly better for us if we team up…for now at least. You know what they say, the enemy of my enemy…” she jostles hand between them, implying the rest of the expression.

“Do this for us and maybe we can forgive some of your…transgressions.”

“You knew we were coming, and yet you chose to stay? ” Electro crosses his arms, sparks flying haphazardly off his being. “I know a trap when I see one.”

“Maybe. Maybe not” Scorpion leans against the wall, inspecting his clawed hand. “But what choice do you have? Really, hidalgo? ”

Vulture sighs grudgingly, descending from the skies with a thud. “Fine. But the moment this is over…” he points to Olivia and then himself. “...We’re going to have a nice, long talk.”

Octavious smiles in the face of the obvious threat. “Why off course. Anything for you Mr.Toomes.”

“Hmmm, so I guys it’s finally time then.” Kraven meets Miguel’s gaze, smiling with glee. “Why don't we settle this as is common in nature?”

Kraven strides to the center of the room, Miguel peels himself from your grasp to do the same. Sharply exhaling out his nose with each laboured step until they meet in the middle. Kraven is almost a whole foot shorter than him. Though Miguel's imposing nature definitely adds to the bearded man’s obvious anticipation.

“Finally ready to fight now that mommy’s let you?” Miguel teases with a snort. “Just know that I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

“Good.The tougher the kill the better the taste,” he grins upward into Miguel’s face. “Any last words?”

Miguel thinks for a moment before slowly leaning forward, bringing his voice to a soft whisper.

“They’re arachnids.”

“What?” The hunter asks, bewildered.

“Scorpions aren’t insects, they’re arachnids. There’s a difference.” With a smug smile he points to the spider emblem on his chest. “I would know.”

Kraven’s smile fades. Before he begins to softly chuckle, which turns to a laugh, which delves to full amused howls. The display is so ostentatious and ridiculous that Miguel eventually chuckles as well.

The hunter wipes the tears from his eyes, boldly placing his hand on his shoulder.

“You,” he takes a moment to catch his breath “You are a funny one.”

“‘Yeah well,” he smiles. "I just had to clear that up before I did this.”

Miguel suddenly grabs him and launches him towards the other side of the room. Kraven manages to recover quickly, immediately pivoting so that his feet land on the ground and jams his large blade into the ground. The knife screeches as Sergei skids to a halt

The grin on his face is massive as he rises to his feet. “This will be a beautiful death.” And rushes towards him where the battle commences.

You startle Jess when you suddenly grab her by the arm. “You need to help me keep an eye on Miguel.”

She turns her head to watchs the two men fiercely exchange blows. Miguel expertly ducking and dodging. Eyes read with rages and sweat seeping through his suit.

“Are you sure we won’t be more helpful elsewhere? He’s fighting just fine.”

“Yeah, for now. But you know about his Rapture addiction right? He’s been a loose cannon all day. I give it thirty seconds before he does something stupid.”

She tilts her head skeptically. “He has the strength of three spidermen combined. I’m sure he can hold his own.”

“It’s not the fighting I’m worried about.”

She hums thoughtfully, “Touche. But we can fight and watch at the same time.” She loudly revs the engine of her bike.

“I’m taking Mysterio. Are you coming with me or not?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

She gives you a fleeting smirk before you both leap into action.

“Is it starting? I think it’s starting.” Peter tightens the straps of his baby holder. “Hold on let me stretch first, I don’t exactly run like I did 20 years ago.” He bends backwards, concerning cracking noises echoing from his back.

“Good thing I had a light lunch, huh, picklebutt.” He plants a kiss on Mayday’s head and pulls her homemade mask down even further.

“Don’t sweat it Peter” Pav takes off his wristlets that act as his yo-yo and starts winding it up. “This’ll be eaaaasy.’

Hobie playfully punches Pav’s shoulder. “Dig the confidence big stepper.” He attempts to give him a noogie, but Pavitir dodges. Causing them to delve in a light-hearted impromptu sparring match full of laughs and giggles.

“How should we spilt this up?” Penni wonders, typing purposefully of the holographic screens from the cockpit of her robot. “Rock, Paper, Scissors?”

“I call Electro!” Margo shouts, extending her pixelated electric arm that acts as her webbing, propelling herself forward towards the fight.

“What! No Fair.” Penni yelps, barreling after her “You’re going to have to share!”

“What? Can’t hear you from all the fight I’m doing!” Spyder-byte shouts playfully, already ducking and weaving attacks from her villain of choice

“Gimme the bug!” Porker shouts, pointing to Mac Gargan “Mess with the pig, you get the hands.”

Gwen frowns “Porker, pigs don’t usually have-”

“-I’ll take ol’ bird man over there, ya hear? ” Noir declares. “That rabble rouser is begging to be scrapped!”

“I’ll take that sad, tortured, lonely, miserable, decrepitat sand guy over there.” Pavitir nods over at the sandman, abruptly stopping his yo-yoing to reflect.

“I almost feel bad. Look at him. Behind those eyes sits a wounded soul.” He sighs earnestly before resuming his giddy nature.

“Anyways! Hobie! Wanna help me out with this one!”

Hobie smirks “Wot? Me? Don’t let me bog you down bruv. Surely you can handle this lot.” Brown laughs to himself, leisurely tuning the pegs of his guitar, “If you happen to find yourself in a bind, just get to leggin’ it. I’ll tap meself in.”

“Hobie.” Gwen reprimands disapprovingly. “I’ll go with you Pav,” she offers, patting him on the back.

“Guess that leaves the Doc to me.” Peter announces, finally finishing his geriatric stretches. “You wanna take this one with me Miles? For old times sake?”

The boy shakes his head, turning his attention to his doppelganger, whose gaze firmly fixed on his arch nemesis.

“I’ll help you take KingPin- or- er- Fisk I mean.”

“Don’t bother,” The young Prowler rejects. “Focus on the watch. And Jonathon. This is personal.”

“Personal?” Miles-Spidermn reflects on the KingPin in his own universe and his own personal slight against him. It takes a moment for the parallel to reveal itself to him. His eyes widen and his jaw drops at the revelation.

“Wait, wait, wait. You don’t mean…” he points a tentative finger at the man, who is now gleefully whipping out a police baton.

“...Is he the one who-”

“-Yeah, ” Miles G. responds curtly. “That over there is the man who killed my father.”