Hummingbird
Denzel swallowed, worriedly watching Miles attempt to resist Miguel’s hot red shield from the crowd. He was relatively far away, so he couldn’t see much besides the other spider people's figures. Speaking of the other spider people, they seemed to be having the same reaction to Miguel’s violence as Denzel had a year ago. They shifted uncomfortably in their spots, looking uncertainly at the other spider people, just to confirm that the side they were on was right .
News flash, it wasn’t .
And Denzel wasn’t the only one feeling that way, the other half of the crowd was wearing twisted scowls, holding their children closer. These people looked like they wanted to spit on Miguel’s face and rip him apart from Miles. Miles, who was just a kid and didn’t know any better, didn’t have the ability to resist.
Denzel couldn’t help but feel a sinister joy at the fact that there still were some people who felt the call of rebellion. He knew these were the people that would eventually become recruits for the Atlantis.
They watched as Miles continued to struggle, in vain. With each punch, with each weakened plea, Miguel was losing more people. With each desperate cry from Miles, Denzel was silently winning. Tensions were on a fast rise, the divide between the spider people was becoming crystal clear. It was time to leave before things took a liking to violence.
Denzel quickly melted away from the crowd, combat boots dead silent under his careful weight. He was unnoticed, making his way to the clear blue lobby. As expected, it was unusually empty, only a few stragglers peppered the walkways.
Denzel felt it before he heard it.
For a split second, his spider senses took over every thought in his brain, telling him to get the fuck out of the lobby. Instead, he swung onto the roof, perching his bows next to him on the cornerstone ledge.
An electric crash erupted from below him, eliciting hundreds of angry shouts. But the most piercing one was Miguel’s. Like nails ripping down a chalkboard, he was enraged .
Denzel’s jaw dropped when he saw Miles trying to flee past thousands of spidermen.
Good luck kid, Denzel thought with determination.
Miguel was in the lead, claws bared and leaping forward at an impeccable speed. It hurts knowing that he can’t save the kid. It hurts knowing that Miguel is doing this again.
From his position far above the massive riot, Denzel had a concerning thought.
Now would be a good time to use his powers. Wouldn’t it?
He slowly unclicked the heart shaped bow from his back. His hands were shaking, it was an ever present reminder of the last time he had tried to use his ability.
He raised the bow at Miguel’s chest…
It would be harmless.
What if it ends up like last time?
What if I can’t bring it under control again?
And with a single moment of hesitation, Miguel was out. That sick guilty ache started filling up his chest, weighing Denzel down. He could've helped the kid. Hell, he most likely would have saved him. He felt the beginnings of an anxiety attack begin to fester, Denzel rubbed his hands together, breathing in a desperate attempt to calm down.
As the turmoil began to dissipate and his heart rate began slowing to its normal pace, he made his routine swing down past the normal walkways and hangout areas to a place most of spider society wasn’t even aware about. The underground was like a darkly lit flea market, selling questionable stuff. It was filled with raggedy tents, and the occasional adult shops. Believe it or not, even spider society had its social rejects, vigilantes, and delinquents who needed a place to stay. Here the people had unauthorized body mods, all sorts of technical adjustments to once ruined arms and legs.
And Denzel trusted them more than any hero-wannabe.
Because this was his home .