Chapter Text
Miguel’s eyes scanned the horizon of the strange city, the back of his figure outlined by the light of a red LED sign while rain pattered against his suit.
Earth 42.
The kid, Miles, thought that the send-home machine would take him back to his universe. And frankly, with how adrenaline-driven he was at the time, Miguel thought it would too.
He thought he was going to have to watch another universe collapse.
But this time, the odds were against Miles. The machine read the DNA of the parasite, not the host, sending the kid to the wrong universe.
Where could that damn anomaly have gone?
Miguel had sent Jess and Scarlet Spider on their own, hoping that if the three could evenly divide the city, they could find and stop Miles quicker. But once Miguel started the search on his own, he realized his slight disadvantage. Unlike the other spiders, he lacked the fundamental spider sense.
Yeah, he knows.
What spider didn’t have spider sense? Without this sense, it would be harder for him to pick up on Miles’ trail. Though Miguel lacked spider sense, he had something none of the other spiders had:
Scent tracking.
Miguel sported many animalistic traits as a result of his altered genetic makeup, such as fangs, talons, paralytic venom, quadrupedal strength, and most remarkably, his insane ability to track something or someone from any small sample of scent.
Usually, Miguel never uses this caliber, as most of the time, it's suppressed by normal dosages of rapture. While Miguel’s animalistic abilities can be largely beneficial, they are also, quite literally, deadly. When Miguel genetically amalgamated his DNA with that of the spider, he overlooked one small mistake that would cost the efficiency of his new self: the spider DNA that Miguel contains is constantly dividing at rapid speed. Ideally, Miguel’s DNA would be a perfect 50/50 ratio of human and spider, but when his spider DNA begins to divide, it creates more, and obviously, it’s not possible to have an 80/50 ratio. So instead, the spider's DNA begins to take over the human. It takes over until Miguel is basically a 6’9, rabid, and even more animalistic killing machine—a human with no humanity.
Initially, after becoming Spider-Man, Miguel thought this flaw would be his downfall. But he quickly figured out that with regular 12-hour interval injections of a condensed liquid made of copies of his own DNA and other suppressing components that can be absorbed through the bloodstream, AKA rapture, he could maintain the perfect half-and-half balance.
It’s been 16 hours since his last injection.
That was the least of Miguel’s worries right now. He had the fate of the universe on his shoulders, and all he needed to do was find that kid.
Miguel had dealt with overstepping his 12 hours before; he could manage himself. Hell, this might as well be a blessing for him. Having more of his feral abilities would actually benefit him, given the current conditions. It seemed to have gotten him closer to Miles on the train, and that was when he was just an hour past his interval.
His lip twitched under his mask. He was so close. He quite literally had Miles at his talon tips.
Speaking of that...
Miguel grabs a small piece of black material out of his pocket. It was a part of Mile’s suit that had gotten stuck to Miguel’s talons during their last run-in, and luckily, Miguel had thought ahead of this exact scenario and decided to keep the small tear of suit before he mindlessly discarded it.
He brings the material to his nose, and within seconds, he has a trail. As if he has some type of internal map in his head, he takes off for where his tracking leads.
Miguel throws himself over the top of the building he just stood on, launching himself off with his heels and landing on his hands, then continuing to hurl himself.
After effortlessly covering neighborhoods of rooftops in mere seconds, he was at his destination.
The 4th floor of an isolated brick apartment complex.
As soon as he sees the window, he’s throwing himself through it, large chunks of glass embedding themselves into his skin. He mindlessly follows the scent, paying no attention to the body of a large man that was splayed across the floor, most likely unconscious. He didn’t need his tracking anymore to tell him where the boy was, because the pained breathing coming from the opposite corner of the room tells him exactly where he needs to be.
He was across the room in a second, his shadow towering over the outline of a body that was lying down on the floor, back facing him.
His mask disappears as he snarls, his fangs glistening.
"Miles."
The boy says nothing. Miguel doesn’t have time for this.
Talons retracted, his hand digs into the shoulder of Miles, flipping the boy over to face him.
Before Miguel can spit out any words, his eyes widen as he looks at the kid in front of him, at least, who he thought was supposed to be Miles.
Miles was now wearing a purple and black suit, accompanied by large gloves that sported claw-like blades at the ends of them, almost similar to those on Miguel’s hands. His hair is tied into two short braids, and his face looks almost more aged, containing more wrinkles and scars scattered across his face.
Miguel notices the hands tied behind his back and suppressed mouth, both restrained by webs.
This wasn’t his Miles.
This was Earth's 42 Miles.
The kid was unconscious, and the black eye, fresh cuts, broken gear and blood told him he was caught up in a fight. And it didn’t take a genius to connect that the person who did this to Earth 42 Mile, was his Miles.
Miguel roars in frustration, grabbing a nearby crate and slamming it into the ground. Of course his tracking just had to be messed up by the fact that there are two fucking Miles in this universe right now.
A vein on Miguel’s forehead pops as he looks back down at Earth 42 Miles.
The blood looked fresh; Miles couldn’t have gotten far.
As if the spider-gods themselves were listening to his thoughts, Miguel hears a crash and grunt from the alleyway.
Miles.
His Miles.
Miguel is across the room in a second, diving through the window he had just broken through minutes ago. He swings around the building, digging his talons into the brick and hoisting himself in place on the wall as he peers down the alleyway.
His eyes land on the outline of Miles. His back was against the wall, and he was coughing up blood and gasping for air like a wounded animal.
…like prey.
Something about this made Miguel’s whole body itch with an insatiable hunger, and without thinking; he lunges.
Miles' head snaps in the oncoming man’s direction and he throws himself out of the way, rolling into the wall across from him. Miguel lands in the trash cans behind the boy with a large crash but quickly gets himself up and prepared to attack again.
"Morales!" he yells as he dives towards the smaller.
Miles scrambles to his feet and shot a web at the wall crosswise from him, barely swinging out of the way. Miguel catches a quick glance of the kid; his lip had a huge cut—practically busted, there was a large gash dangerously close to his left eye, and he had a scrape across his nose bridge that was still dripping blood. His skin looks ashen, like the life had been sucked out of him. He looked tired.
But Miguel didn’t care.
This wasn’t a kid who was tired from being chased for 3 hours for trying to save his dad; this was a terrorist and a threat to the fate of the whole multiverse. A problem that needed to be taken care of. Another anomaly.
Miles is still gasping for air. "Miguel, please, man," he pleads as he swings out of the way of the man who launches himself toward him.
"You have no idea what hell you’ve put me through the past few hours," Miguel yells as he tries to grab Miles, "and once I get my hands on you, I’m going to make sure you know what it feels like!"
Miles winces and propels himself over the head of the man, then shoots out a web and takes off across the street. Miguel digs his claws into the wall, then launches himself off the wall and comes hurling towards Miles. He grabs his ankle, digging his claws into his skin. Miles screams in pain, then kicks the man in the face with his free leg.
Miguel loses his grip and is sent plummeting to the ground, falling into a parked car. He quickly pulls himself up, his eyes shooting over to where Miles is already 2 blocks down the road. Miguel shoots out two glowing red webs onto either side of the street, using them to slingshot him back towards the kid. As he gets closer, he can quite literally smell Miles' fear.
And this just makes him all the more driven.
Miles turns to look over his shoulder, and Miguel uses this chance to throw himself towards him. He wraps his palm around the kid’s arm and slams him into the concrete.
Miles yells. "Miguel, I can't," he sputters between his struggling breathing as he tries to crawl away from the large figure, "can we just t-talk, please?"
"I let you talk earlier," Miguel yells as he grabs Miles’ ankle, "and look where talking got you!"
He yanks Miles’ ankle and throws him into a nearby building. As Miles attempts to get up, Miguel jumps towards him and wraps his hand around the boy’s neck, crushing him deeper into the wall.
Miguel’s ears are thumping, filled with the sound of his own blood and adrenaline.
Miles screams as he struggles for air. Miguel squeezes, almost completely restricting the breathing of the kid in his grasp. Miles grabs Miguel’s hand with both of his, trying to pry him off. Miles gags, his face turning red as he tries to scream again.
Finally, Miles sends a small stream of electricity into Miguel’s hand, causing the man to just barely loosen his grip. Miles then elbows him in the ribs, knocking the air out of the man. Before he knows it, Miguel is on the ground, and Miles is right next to him, gasping for air before he recollects himself and swings off.
Miguel is quickly on his feet—well, not really on his feet since he's swinging through the air again. Miles must sense this without even checking, because after Miguel blinks, he's gone. He’s turned invisible.
Before Miguel can do anything, Miles's is revealed as his body glitches. He loses his webbing and falls into another alleyway with a loud thump. Miguel follows him, dropping to the entrance of the alley.
All he sees is red.
Miles tries to crawl away from him, dragging his body with one hand as the other clutches his bleeding side.
Miguel stalks down the alleyway, fangs and talons unsheathed. He steps on Miles' ankle, the one he had already sunk his claws into earlier. He digs his heel into the wound and puts enough pressure on it so Miles can’t move. The boy under him cries in pain.
The man then releases his ankle, only to move his foot to flip over Miles. He kicks him in the injured side in the process, sending Miles screaming in pain.
Miguel stands over the kid. He was a mess, blood covering him from head to toe. He was about to pounce before Miles shot out one last pathetic string of web, plastering the adult to the wall.
With Miguel stuck, Miles struggles to get up, standing like his head was as heavy as a bowling ball.
Miguel rips out of the webbing with ease, and before he can make a move towards Miles again, the kids fall backwards to the ground.
He curses in pain as his injured side collides with the wet concrete.
The kid looks like a cornered animal.
Miguel pants as something takes over him.
Miguel was no stranger to killing. When faced with certain enemies, the best choice for protecting the multiverse was to just end the threat once and for all.
…But what about killing a spider?
A spider person had never killed another spider person before. What would the others think?
They wouldn’t have to know.
Theres no witnesses.
He could just say Earth 42 Miles did his doppelganger in, well, he almost did anyways.
…No.
He would use Miles as an example.
This is what happens when you go against the spider society.
This is what happens when you put the multiverse in danger.
This is what happens when you oppose Miguel.
Miguel walks towards Miles, and within a second, he is on top of him. Restraining Miles wrists to his side, squeezing his talons in for extra sustainability. His knees dig into Mies’ thighs, and with any more pressure, the poor boy’s bones would snap.
Calling his mask off, Miguel looks at the boy with wide, red, hungry eyes.
Miguel’s last and final stage of his feral takeover:
bloodthirst.
The kid under him is hyperventilating, chest heaving like hes choking on the little air he manages to take in. Blood sputters out of his mouth; leaking down his chin into a puddle beside him. Now he was full-on sobbing. Streams of tears flow down his face as empty pleas escape his lips. But his words fall on deaf ears.
Miguel is too far gone.
“Mi-Miguel, please, please, I can't—you have to listen to me. This i-isn't you- I can tell this isn’t you, please—" Miles cries, choking on his tears.
Miguel snarls at him, unsheathed fangs dripping with venom. He removes one hand from Mile’s wrist, only to move it to his neck. His talon pricks the skin, small beads of blood trickling down from each contact point.
The boy lets out a scream, his body writhing under Miguel’s grasp as he sobs.
Miguel only squeezes harder.
The man’s gaze moves from where his own wrist stifles Miles up to the kid’s face.
He looks half dead, covered in a mixture of dried and fresh blood, patches of hair matted by the gore.
His gaze makes its way up to Miles’ eyes. He looks horrified, eyes wide with terror and glossy with fear. Miguel presses his talons in deeper. He wants—needs—to see the life drain from his face, watch the light fade from his eyes.
His…
brown… eyes.
…brown?
….
"Papa, what's your favorite thing about me?"
The two sit on the couch, watching something Miguel isn’t really paying attention to. He lies slouched against a pillow, his hand threading through the hair of the head that rests on his lap.
"I don't have a favorite thing, Mija." I love all of you equally," he says smiling down at the girl.
He checks the time: 11:24! Wayyy past her bedtime. He stands, picking up the little girl as he walks towards her room.
"Like what?"
He sets her into bed, tucking her under the covers. She looks at him eagerly.
"Hm... well," he says as his hand finds its way to her hair again, "I love your long hair."
He continues, "aaaand your dimples."
Miguel’s heart warms as her dimples appear when she smiles at the comment, "What else, Papa?"
"I love your thick eyebrows, which you definitely got from me," he hums, "and I love your cute little button nose." She giggles as he taps her nose with his finger.
"And I love your big, beautiful, brown eyes," he muses. Her eyes sparkle as she looks at him.
"I love all of you too, Papa! Even when you snore!"
"I do not snore!" he says, acting offended.
"Do too! You were just on the couch!"
"I-I was not! I wasn’t even asleep," he says, wondering if he actually was snoring.
"So you snore when you aren’t even sleeping?" she giggles evilly.
"Ahh mija You get so crazy when I let you stay up past your bedtime; maybe I should stop-"
"Nooo, Papa, I was kidding!"
"Mhmm," he says, ruffling her hair, "time to go to bed, Princesa; you still have practice tomorrow."
He walks over to the door, looking at her once more before turning off the light.
"Night papa," she smiles, her eyes blinking with sleep.
"Goodnight-"
…
"Gabriella."
He blinks away the red that occupies his eyes.
Miguel’s heart sinks as he snaps back to reality, the prickling feeling of loss spreading all over his body for the umpteenth time.
As he regains his senses, he quickly recognizes the feeling of something under his hands—no, his talons. His eyes quickly dart to what they’re wrapped around, gasping when he sees who they’re-not wrapped around-but sunk into.
He feels sick.
"Miles?"
Miles stares back at him through half-lidded eyes, cheeks littered with dried tears and blood, "I want to go home."
As if pushing out those words took the rest of his little remaining energy, the boy’s eyes flutter shut.
"Miles!"
Miguel’s chest constricts as he looks at the kid, who lies limp under his grasp.
The. Kid.
What was he doing? What was wrong with him?
The man’s breath gets caught in his throat as his talons retract from Miles’. He puts his hands on the boy’s shoulders, shaking him desperately.
"Kid, Miles, please," Miguel pleads, "this wasn’t supposed to happen, I-I didn’t-"
He looks down at the boy, his eyes scanning frantically for injuries. He’s covered in them. The one that catches his eye the most is a large gash in his side. Miguel feels bile fill his mouth when he sees the white that peeks through the deep gouge—a rib.
…Did he do that?
Miguel feels his heart sink even deeper when he sees multiple, almost identically shaped marks scattered across the boy’s body. Each slash is made of four uniformly spaced, deep, drawn-out lacerations.
Claw marks.
Miguel’s talons retract when he looks down at his hand.
No.
He shakes Miles again.
"Miles, come on, you've got to wake up," he breathes.
He puts two fingers to the kid’s neck, a faint pulse beating against him. Without thinking, he scoops Miles into his arm, pressing him against his chest. A small wince escapes the boy at the sudden movement.
The iron smell of blood fills Miguel’s nose. He twitches as he fights back the urges that fill the back of his head.
He reaches for his watch, hands shaking as he tries to summon the portal back to the HQ. Finally, the infinite hexagonal corridor appears in front of him.
"L-Lyla, call off the hunt and tell Medbay to be prepared," he says into his watch, shutting it off before the AI can respond.
Miguel looks at the unconscious boy in his arms one more time, a sickening memory clouding his vision. He feels tears start to prick at the corners of his eyes. He stands up and leaps into the portal.
He knows he can’t talk himself out of this. He knows his actions were inexcusable, and he will pay the price. He knows Miles will never want to see his face again. He knows this will cause more spiders to turn against him.
But most importantly, Miguel knows he won’t lose another kid.