2
Getting a knocked-out Miles out of the falling building was not easy. Saving Mumbattan with three people instead of four was even harder. They had Hobie carry Miles – he was used to the extra weight, carrying his guitar everywhere – for the time being, until they found a good spot to lay him down. Hobie assumed he was knocked out from the shock; He wasn’t completely sure how long he was Spider-Man, but it couldn’t’ve been that long.
They had barely managed to soften the remains of Alchemax as it fell. It still crumbled, but they did prolong it enough to get most of the civilians out of the way. Gwen and Pavitr were getting everyone out, and Hobie was responsible for slowing the buildings’ fall. Finally, after what felt like ages, they managed to focus their attention on the bridge. Hobie laid Miles on a lone piece of debris, turning to join the rest of the Spiders.
-
When he finally opened his eyes, the Spider-Gang was nowhere in his line of sight. Where had they gone? He could hear grunts, in the distance, but any hope of finding the group was lost with the piles upon piles of rubble that went on for what seemed like miles. He got up, careful not to irritate his – definitely broken, now that he thinks about it – ribs. Before he got a chance to warm up, his spider-sense immediately went off. He looked up and saw another piece of the wreckage, if that was even possible, coming for him.
He was ready to dodge out of the way, but damn it, he froze up again. That's all he was ever doing, lately, trying to fight to no avail. This was it. Spider-Man, the “hero” who died to a big rock. Silently, he accepted it. Maybe they’d frame it as dying in a fight. Maybe he died a hero, pursuing Spot until they both went down. The debris got closer. He closed his eyes.
Just as he was getting comfortable, he was thwipped out of his comfort, narrowly avoiding his death. He looked to the source of the web, Gwen staring back.
“Glad to see you back in the fight, Miles,” She called out, before running back to direct the citizens off the bridge.
Miles chased after her, getting to safety above the bridge. Gwen held his hand tight, but he was fixated on Pav. A Spider-Man he had barely known for an hour, but he still felt the need to save him. Pavitr was barely hanging on; He had to help, save him, save whatever he was holding onto for his life.
No one saw the Inspector running for a kid with a red shirt, who stood, inconsolable, in the middle of the bridge. Miles, however, managed to spot the man running to the child – it looked just like the person in his … vision? He supposes it could be called that. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, he had to act fast. He couldn’t mess up again. Gritting his teeth, he held back the urge to stop, to at least look at his wounds. He prepared to jump, to at least cover them.
With the debris falling absolutely everywhere, there was no chance they’d make it out without help. He was ready. Darting to the side of the lookout they had perched on, he tried to worm out of Gwen’s iron grip. Confused why she was so insistent on holding him back, he looked towards her.
“Miles!”
“Don't worry! Thread the needle, ring the bell, right–”
“It’s too dangerous,” She tightened her grip, and she sounded so unfamiliar for being the same friend he knew for months. She sounded different. Sharper, like she was in charge. And maybe she was. But Gwen wouldn’t be able to stop his drive to save. Maybe that was the core of being Spider-Man. Saving people.
So, with a deep breath, and adrenaline pumping, he wriggled his hand out and made the jump. With the help of his webs, he rammed into them, picking them up as he sprinted across the bridge, the wreckage following close behind. He wasn’t fast enough, the wreckage got closer, he was going to die. He knew it. Still, maybe he could protect these people, the people who couldn’t protect himself. With a split-second decision, he stopped moving. He wrapped the civilian in his arms – where had that officer gone? – letting his body be the shield that would save the kid.
He felt like shit. His body was on fire, every inch of him was screaming with pain. The position he tore himself into to protect them was not ideal, with the child’s foot digging into his chest, and her hand was wedged between them, sticking into his neck. Still, though, the human shield he created with himself would work. As far as he knew, he would soften the fall, just like the rest of the group did to the fallen Alchemax.
The last thing he saw before the rubble completely covered his vision, he saw Hobie – and Gwen – desperately staring at them, wishing they could help more. He could live with this. If he just keeps whispering to the young girl, saying it will all be okay, maybe it will. He wanted to apologize, really, his side was getting blood all over her shirt. At least it was already red; It wouldn’t be a visible stain. That’d be good.
It felt like ages until weight was lifted off his back. The immense relief that he could spare a bit of energy from holding up the debris was enough to give him more strength. He could barely keep his eyes open, though he knew that closing them would be a bad idea. He just wanted to sleep. To go back to his parents, to see Ganke again. He couldn’t die now, they’d be so disappointed in him. Just imagining his parents’ reaction to him being Spider-Man made him feel sick, let alone having to tell them he died. No, dying was out of the equation. He’d survive this.
He could hear muffled voices, and light was starting to shine through cracks of the ruins he’d made with his own mistakes. Finally, he could see Gwen in the distance; Or was she right next to him? Everything was zooming in and out of focus, and it took a tremendous amount of energy not to throw up or pass out. He looked past her, and saw a red, double-decker bus, with webs pulling it onto the road. Interesting – that must’ve been what Pav was trying so hard to protect.
To be honest, he didn’t think he would be able to hold an entire bus with a few webs. That would take a huge amount of strength – he’d have to congratulate Pav for that later. Before long, a girl – coming from that bus, he noticed – was running past him, straight for the officer he had tried so hard to protect. Miles had focused all his strength on the girl, and it was a miracle the officer survived as well.
He stumbled over to Gwen, leaning on her for support. She stared at them, relief taking over any worry she might’ve felt beforehand. That is, until she saw blood trickling down his side. She wouldn’t’ve seen it, with the black suit, but there were frayed tears all along the side of him. He probably ripped it with his stupid “act of bravery.”
She nudged him, pointing his head towards the blood, “Miles, you alright? You’re bleeding …”
“No - No worries, I’ll be fine. I’m good. Not bad, right?”
She looked down, the bold text Canon Event Disrupted glaring daggers back at her. If a watch could kill, she’d be dead. Gwen didn’t have a lot of time or energy to dwell on it, however, because before she could say anything, Hobie ran past her. He was bright pink – that was new, she’d never seen that before – and, without hesitation, ran directly towards Miles.
“Man, like, Miles! My guy!”
Miles was about to turn around and thank him, say anything, but cheers overrode anything he’d say. They were loud – too loud – and he just wanted to sleep. He wished he had his headphones, he wished he could drown out the applause that surrounded him. He blinked, slowly, trying to take a deep breath.
“So? … What d’you think?” He tried to ask Gwen, needing validation more than anything else.
“What I always think. You’re amazing,” She replied, and he could hear the relief in her words.
He was going to reply, but he couldn’t. The energy to force his throat to move, to make words, was so much. Too much. Right now, he had to focus on standing. He was inches away from passing out, and that just wouldn’t do. His attention was stolen by pops of color flickering from below. Right, glitching; He knew what that felt like. Were there other Spider-Men there? No, it was too big. His eyes widened, comically so. An entire building was glitching, just like Peter did. Just like everyone did.
“Guys … What’s that?” Pavitr asked, nerves high.
“It’s a metaphor for capitalism.”
“It’s a lot worse than that,” Gwen said, effectively answering Pav’s question. Miles looked up, only to see yet another portal. What came out of it, though, was much more interesting. It looked to be a spider-shaped vehicle, of sorts. Miles, if he could, was even more surprised by the people who came out. A group of Spiders came out of it, with one – he recognized her, the same lady she saw while invisible – clearly in charge. She directed the rest of the Spiders, giving each one orders.
He wanted to introduce himself, to make a good first impression, but all he could do was watch. Gwen noticed his change of attitude, and worried as ever, got the woman’s attention. He could hear talking – Pav was clinging to Hobie, he saw that, and Gwen was pleading with the woman in charge. He blinked, again. It was taking everything to stay aware, and even that wasn’t enough. He held his stomach and it was cold. It was wet, too – that must be the blood. He staggered towards Gwen, using her as support. She looked even more desperately towards the lady – he thinks her name was Jess? – and her stance faltered.
She finally stood down, grumbling as Gwen carried him into a portal. He was relieved – maybe he could join this Spider Society thing – but was quickly ripped out of it. The sensation felt like his organs were torn out of his body, moved to another dimension, then put back. It was like hell, and it just had to provoke his chest.
He closed his eyes. They didn’t open for a good few seconds – He knew that was bad. If blinking was taking too long, there was a chance he’d never open his eyes again. Finally, they managed to land in an elevator-thing. Everyone landed on their two feet, besides him, of course, who managed to fall flat on his stomach. It didn’t help that he wanted to scream – color glitched through him as he fell. Apparently, this society really wanted to make sure he knew he wasn’t welcome there. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to get back up, if it wasn’t for Hobie, of all people, pulling him onto his feet.
He leaned onto him, noticing the bursts of color changing from pink to blue to red. He fixated on that, ever-changing colors intruding his mind. That helped him, centering himself with it. Miles looked at the other, eyes – behind the mask, he really didn’t know if Hobie could tell – pleading for help, for anything. Fortunately, Hobie seemed to know something was up. He called Gwen over, who pointed to the bleeding wound. Good, it wasn’t too bad.
“Gwendy, I think we need to make a pitstop at the Medbay,” He started, and she immediately understood, going over to Jess – presumably to tell her. Miles didn’t really know, though. His mind was racing, and everyone else was the last thing on his mind. Maybe, in the comfort of the rest of the Spider-Gang, he could finally close his eyes. Finally rest. He’d be taken care of, at least he hoped they’d care enough to give him that. Yeah, that's a good idea. He’d be all fixed up, and then he’d join their club. With their dimension-hopping goober watches, he wouldn’t have to devote his life to science. He could be an artist, like he always wanted.
He made up his mind. He closed his eyes. He could hear the Spider-Gang trying to wake him up, but it was clear they were teasing. He didn’t care – he was too tired to really notice at all.
-
He opened his eyes. He was doing that a lot - blinking. It took over his mind, the simple task of moving his eyelids. It was so easy. If he couldn’t do that, how was he able to do anything? Immediately, though, the blinding lights forced him to blink, again. He tried to get up – he had to make a good first impression, after all – but the sharp pain forced him down.
“Don’t try to get up – it won’t work,” a voice, which he didn’t recognize, told him so. Their presence was commanding, and he abided – not out of fear, at least he hoped. Gwen peered over the bed, eyes filled with relief. She looked good. Probably better than him. From what he could see from her eyes’ reflection, he didn’t look very good. Scratches took over his face, and he saw dried blood on his forehead.
“– going to tell him –”
“He’s not ready! C’mon, Miguel, look at him–”
“–anomaly. He needs to know.”
“ … Fine.”
He blinked, again. He looked at the figure, and tried to smile. He hoped it didn’t look as stupid as he feared. He felt around for something to hold onto, anything to hold onto. Support. But, despite his efforts, nothing was there.
“Miles Morales.”
Well that got his attention. The presence of him was almost terrifying, and he swore he had fangs. He had to have been a Spider-Man – They were in the Spider Society, after all.
“Don’t be afraid of my friend Miguel, he looks scary, but he’s got no bite,” Peter butted in, instantly filling Miles with comfort. If Peter B. was here, then it couldn’t be all bad. And his encouragement helped, too. Although, Peter looked a bit worse for wear. He sported a pink bathrobe with a … baby carrier? He’d have to ask him about it later.
“Miles, you disrupted a canon event.”
“Miguel, Miguel, the kid wasn’t thinking. That’s not how he works.”
Well, ouch. Miles could think. He had a brain, that's what thinking is for. He’s a smart kid. He can definitely think. Peter was just teasing, clearly. He wanted to quip back, retort, but his throat was stubborn in staying quiet. Gwen could see his face, though, and it looked like she was holding back laughter.
He couldn’t help but wonder, though, what even was a canon event? The term sounded like something out of a comic book, and the term coming from the scariest man he’s ever seen sounded ridiculous. He almost wanted to laugh, if his body would cooperate for once.
“Lyla? Do the thing.”
“What thing?”
“What d’you mean, what thing? The information explain-y thing!”
Who was Lyla? The questions raced through his head, and each thing the man – Miguel, he thinks – said just gave him three more questions. He almost wanted to raise his hand, like he was in school again. But the room went dark too fast for him to protest. Not that he would, in fact it was actually very nice to be submitted to darkness again.
A small, blue light drew attention to itself, and Miles' curiosity got the better of him, as it always did. He tried to reach out, to touch it, but he was stopped. Gwen carefully laid his hand back down, and he was almost thankful for how gentle she was. He was very uncomfortable laying down, seeing as the bed was wet with blood, and he felt bad for any custodians who had to deal with the stains. He thought he saw blood dripping off the bed, too, which made him feel even worse. Really, he just wanted to know what the glowing orb actually was. It would take his mind off the worries for the janitors.
As if Miguel could read his mind, he replied – sleek as ever, “This … is everything.”
On queue, the orb dropped in front of him, transforming into a leafless tree, branches spreading every which way. It was almost beautiful, if it wasn’t actively blinding him. Without any notice, it suddenly disappeared, orange lines from around the room replacing it with ease. It was evolving, fast, into a gigantic web. Miles was astonished, to be frank. The web was being created so gracefully, without effort, it was awe-inspiring.
“All of our lives, woven together, in a beautiful web of life and destiny,” he continued, making a point to articulate each word well. It was impressive, to Miles, this much amount of effort to a simulation.
“The Arachno-Humanoid Poly-Multiverse.”
Well, that ruined the whole thing. It was the stupidest name Miles had ever heard. Even he could think of a better name; The Spider-Verse sounded so much better! He rolled his eyes, looking at Gwen. Again, she stayed silent, but the smile was enough to prove he wasn’t alone in this.
Wherever the two lines of a web met, images wove themselves into it. He wanted to reach out, to grab one, but his limbs were unsuccessful in moving a single muscle.
“These converging lines … They are the canon. Chapters that are a part of every Spider’s story, every single time. Some good, some bad … some very bad.”
He saw his uncle. And what looked to be hundreds, if not thousands of others, just like his. If it wasn’t so terrifying, he’d honestly find comfort in it, knowing other Spiders went through the same things he did.
“ASM-90, this event, a police chief close to Spider-Man dies, saving a kid from falling rubble.”
He looked back to Gwen, again, looking for any kind of support. This time, she was colder, looking away. She was forcing herself not to look at him. That stung, more than any words she could’ve said. No support. Fine, he didn’t need Gwen, he could look for Peter. But no – he looked back, just like Gwen did. What were they thinking, not telling him? He could’ve – He could’ve saved their police officers too, he could save them all!
“That’s just how the story’s supposed to go. The canon events are what make us Spider-Men. But those connections can be broken. And thats why anomalies happen. Anomalies like you.”
“You shouldn’t’ve saved Inspector Singh, Miles Morales. Him dying was a canon event – A canon event that you disrupted.”
Miguel’s anger grew more and more apparent, his voice raising. It reminded him of earlier – Miles thinks it was a few hours ago – when he showed up late to his dad’s party.
“You weren’t supposed to be there, and you definitely weren’t supposed to save him.”
He held back tears. No one told him this – though, even if they did, he probably still would’ve saved the Inspector – how could it’ve been his fault? He didn’t know. Clearly, they were all hiding something from him. He didn’t know anything. He wasn’t in the loop. Probably because Gwen didn’t trust him. He messed up too badly, that he understood. He tried anything to defend himself, but salty tears started to roll down his cheeks and the floodgates opened. He curled in on himself, muscles screaming in pain because of it. Finally, his throat could work, could talk, could scream, if he wanted to.
“I just want to save my dad, please …” He was quiet, only letting out whispers and cries. His sobs echoed throughout the hospital, and no one could help him. No one would help him. He was begging for his father’s life, in a pool of his own blood, sweat and tears. It was a pitiful sight, for sure. He could just imagine the Spider-Gang laughing at his own incompetence. He really should’ve known from the start. None of them really liked him, did they? He tried to prove himself, tried to save people. But all he did was make things worse.
His tears were interrupted by sharp pain filling through him – glitching, again. Bile filled up in his throat, he needed to puke, and every sound the others were making was filling his brain with noise. His sobs grew louder, and of course, his ribs just had to protest. Miles was sure that dying would be nicer than this. He really didn’t want to die, but this agony filled him with dread.
He didn’t realize Miguel had stopped berating him. In fact, he couldn’t actually hear or see anyone. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, expecting to see someone in front of him. But no one was there. He tried to stretch out, but his body protested moving. He wanted to curse, to scream, to say something. Really, he wanted comfort. A hand on his shoulder – Like Hobie had given to him before. He’d take anyone.
In the other room, he could hear arguing. It sounded like the Spider-Gang. He was pretty sure they were on his side, which he was thankful for. He doesn’t think he could do it alone.
“–He’s just a kid, Miguel!”
“– too far. Did you see his face!?”
“He needed to learn his–”
“Bullshit! Absolute bullshit.”
He needed sleep. He was so tired; Apparently, fighting while injured is easier said than done, because it definitely took a toll on his body. He wasn’t sure what would happen when he woke up, but he didn’t have to think about that. And if someone caressed his cheek and stroked their hands through his hair, Miles would be none the wiser.