Chapter Text
Miles, watching Miguel turn around a metal beam to get to Hobie, nearly shit himself as Funnel-Web turned back to him. Through the mask, her eyes were narrow with glee, and a giggle escaped her mouth.
They simply stood there for a moment, before she slowly raised a hand to point to the left, and against his better judgement his eyes followed it. He realised his mistake and his gaze snapped back to her at the same time he heard a snort.
She was right there.
Her silvery hand seemed to hover over his face for a moment, her body to the left of him and posed in a way that seemed like she was high-fiving him.
Then, her hand enclosed over the fabric of his mask, finding purchase in the plump of his cheeks with painful force. He was lifted from the ground and she continued to drive forward, all the way backwards until his back connected with a metal beam sticking out of the platform.
[Frankly, he wasn't sure why there was a literal pole in the middle of the platform, it's thickness about that of his bicep, maybe a little thinner. Although wildly unethical, he had little time to contemplate.]
Still slightly sore from his previous injuries, he groaned at the added pain. It was like sparks in his veins, and when his eyes slipped closed for a moment, he saw those sparks behind his eyelids.
He lifted his hands to claw at her own, which was still over his face, and he tried yanking her hand away in all sorts of ways.
Funnel-Web let out a noise of amusement, before she pressed him harder against the pole, ever so slowly lifting him up until his legs were barely scraping the ground. He was taller than her, which made this even more astonishing.
He squeezed his eyes closed so as to not see the lilac of her hair turn into a dark purple as his feet scraped the ground, and to block out the dark blue background similar to the light blue one of that day.
Instead, he braced himself and clenched his teeth, grabbing onto her hand more firmly while also shooting the other out to tangle in her hair. Once his palm was firmly placed on her forehead and his fingers pressed against her scalp, he let himself give a sliver of a grin.
She growled when his hand touched her hair, but the low sound barely registered to him when he clenched his core and snapped his teeth together. Sparks danced, but this time it wasn't of pain beyond his comprehension, instead they were blue and beautiful, soothing his wounds in a way where they went from screaming to whispering.
He willfully forced the sparks into his hands, and he smirked a little when he heard her cry out. Her grip loosened, and in that moment he dropped down to the floor, he bent his legs and dropped into a crouch, and then swept his leg out to knock her over in a painfully familiar move.
She fell sideways, and shot her hands out to soften her fall. He didn't let her, lest she do something worse.
Miles instead reared backwards, a little diagonally, shooting out a web as he went. It stuck to Funnel-Web’s shoulder, and he grabbed the web with both hands as he dipped behind the pole, yanking as he went.
Her head connected to the pole with a crack, and he let go of the web and fell back onto his ass.
He sat there panting for a moment, before he very slowly got up and limped to her, kicking her lightly with his foot. When she was unresponsive, he sighed and hobbled to the opposite edge of the platform. He could vaguely see Miguel and Hobie on the ground about 70 metres away, and he called out with the confidence they could hear him.
“Miguel, she’s immobilised. You guys okay?”
Miguel’s head swivelled a little towards him, and he strained to hear the response.
“Hobie’s bleeding, I’m holding his wound but Gwen and Pav need to get here so we can go back. No signal of Vulture-48 yet.”
He hummed in thought even though no one could hear him.
“I’ll contact them and-”
He was cut off by a horrible screech of metal, and found himself stilling as the sound was followed by a small snapping sound. He wanted to turn, but his body wouldn't let him, refused to.
“Miles, get down!”
As Miguel yelled his warning, a whistling sound came from behind him, rapidly approaching. Something jagged and cold pierced his shoulder, tearing through flesh and muscle as it came through the other side.
Fire bloomed, then it raged and died as ice crept into its place. A strangled whimper escaped him, and he tilted his head slightly to look at the object that had impaled him through his shoulder. The tail end of a torn metal pole, the same one Funnel-Web was knocked out against not even a minute ago.
His vision started to darken, but he found he couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood-soaked pole, nor from his suit, the black fabric somehow growing darker as the blood spread beneath it.
His eyelids fluttered, and he wondered for a moment just how long he’d stood there, watching blood drip from his suit and drip from the pole, feeling unimaginable amounts of pain and then nothing as his body began to shut down.
The pole shifted for a moment, wobbling in his flesh in a highly unsettling way. Morbidly, he watched as the pole slid forward just a little, before wrenching backwards through his flesh, the almost barbed end catching on his skin and muscle.
Liquid gore spurted from the wound momentarily, but then his eyes stopped working. He was bathed in shadows, hearing, seeing, feeling nothing, but somehow aware of his surroundings. Then, even that started to go. He could feel himself swaying where he stood, then the airiness as he fell through air, and finally the solid impact of concrete beneath him, that swiftly grew wet under his own injuries.
Just before sweet unconsciousness embraced him, he heard metal scraping across the ground, and the sound of effort leaving Funnel-Webs mouth, as though throwing something.
And just like that, he fell down, down, down into the snapping jaws of darkness.
✭Miguel POV✭
Miguel has felt true fear several times in his life, his canon events and outside them. But there was something uniquely terrifying about watching Funnel-Web impale that metal pole through his boy’s shoulder. He was far away enough that he couldn't see exactly what happened, but the blood that spread like fire across Miles’ chest, staining through his black suit and dripping onto the platform below him is indicator enough that hi- the boy will not be recovering from that anytime soon.
And neither will Miguel.
He feels frozen in place, beyond weak as he’s transfixed on Miles and Funnel-Web. All his muscle, all his bulk, and he’s fucking helpless to help the boy who is here only because Miguel asked him to be. His eyes follow every movement, everything dulles as he watches Funnel-Web stumble slightly as she nears Miles.
There's a bloodstain peeking over her mask and seeping into her light hair, and one of the eyes on her mask is cracked, revealing a sliver of one, crazed icy blue eye. Amazingly, Miguel feels as though he's watching from far closer than he really is; watching as the spectacularly pale blue eye darts around, its pupil expansive and the eye crinkled at the corner as though she's smiling.
As if she was enjoying it all. Grabbing the pole from behind Miles, and ripping backwards, taking chunks of flesh with the metal. Miles sways, then falls forward, off the platform.
Miguel can't move, for one because he's desperately holding Hobie in place so as to not let him die because of his wounds, and for two because even if he could, he would never get there on time.
His gaze follows Miles, right up until a whistling sound screeches through the air, rapidly growing louder.
Whipping his eyes back to Funnel-Web, he is instead met with the blood smothered, jagged end of the pole that had just impaled a teenager through the shoulder, inches from his face. It's only his years of experience that have him jolting his head to the side, neck at a crooked angle as the makeshift javelin nicks his face before implanting in the concrete behind him with a resounding crash.
He needs to get it together, he can't,- he can't mess up like this again.
A flash of bright colours appears in his peripheral vision. However he doesn't look, his shoulders relax the very slightest, until he realises he has not seen nor heard Funnel-Web.
Very, very, slowly, he rests Hobie properly on the ground, stabilising his head before rising to his feet. Miguel ignores the panic bubbling under his skin, the rage and the nearly overwhelming sense of worry. Hobie, Miles, both injured by this woman, possibly beyond repair. He hadn't warned them enough, he hadn't done enough, and now other people were paying the price, just like-
Just like-
Like-
Snip.
He lashes out, his left hand wrapping around Funnel-Web’s upper arm, and he viciously yanks her to the left, swinging her and revelling in the pop of a joint and the choked cry that escaped her throat. He released her upon a full rotation, tossing her across the empty space between pillars.
She skidded across the ground, leaving a stuttering trail of blood; dust kicking up into the air and her hair whipping wildly as she rolled uncontrollably against the gravel concrete. She managed to end on her feet, still skidding slightly and her right arm hanging unnaturally by her side.
Not good enough. She's still standing; she's still breathing.
It wouldn’t stay that way.
Miguel is upon her before she even has time to breathe properly, his shaking fists raining upon her like he’s a starved animal, never letting up in their blood spilling assault. The first barrage was somewhat blocked by her remaining functional arm, but then there was a crack in her forearm and it faltered, enough for him to smack it away and hail down even more unhinged assaults. Although, this time, it connected with the remainder of her mask.
Funnel-Web stumbled backwards, falling to the floor as she took punch after punch, punches that would turn the average man into fucking mince. She took it without a single noise, only twitching and spasming everytime another punch hit her.
It only served to make him angrier. She had so much to say, so much to do, to his two boys, what's changed?
He’s straddling her stomach, his hefty weight holding her down and the position preventing her legs from kicking him, although they only twitched behind him. Her right arm, the dislocated one, was thrown uselessly to the side, while the left was pinned beneath his knee, no doubt crunching between the force of him and the solid ground.
He stopped. He had to. He can't kill her, he couldn't. It was tempting, very fucking tempting, but Miguel had been responsible for enough deaths in this life. Besides, a vibration on his watch was ultimately what made the decision for him. They're alive. All four of them; far from okay, but not dead.
With a hard narrowed gaze, he stares down at the girl beneath him, mildly grateful that he was wearing his mask. HE didn't want her to ever see his, or his kids, faces ever. The eye on her mask that was cracked is now completely gone. At some point during his beatdown, the fabric around it had torn away entirely, revealing the entire upper-right part of her face. Blood was now far more prevalent in her light hair, which was fanned out across the ground, near poetically.
Her eyes were closed. Not clenched in pain, but not passed out either. Like she is resting. Or worse… thinking.
Planning.
“You’re..”
She breathed out, and if Miguel hadn't already put her on his ‘hated fucks’ list, he would've winced at how ragged her youthful voice sounded. She coughed for a moment, before continuing her whisper.
“You’re incredibly amusing.”
Miguel startles as the words assert themselves, and he growls, lifting his fists once more, before he is stopped by her visible eye snapping open. The icy depths are crazed, and they seem colder than before. She stares right at him, and Miguel has the unsettling feeling that she can see right through his suit and into his damaged soul.
His momentary hesitation is all Funnel-Web needs. She bucks wildly, pushing with her left arm as well. Miguel, not prepared, was pushed off her almost immediately by her wild movements.
Within seconds, they’re standing across from each other, Funnel-Web’s right arm still dangling uselessly by her side and blood dripping from her flesh. All Miguel has to show of the struggle is enraged breathing, a struggle to not explode, and an already scabbing cut on his cheek, visible under the mask.
Maintaining eye contact, Funnel-Web speaks again.
“Never seen you guys around here before. Neat tech.”
Funnel-Web glances down at his watch, and the atmosphere grows tenser. Neither of them move, in a stalemate, until Funnel-Web’s left hand trails to her right shoulder, and she yanks it back into place with a disturbing pop.
“Okay,” She said slowly, accent making it drawl condescendingly. “Playtime’s over. You and your freak kids can fuck right back off to where you came from.”She stands taller, eye glistening menacingly as she tilts her head up and flexes her fingers.
Miguel is twice her size in every sense of the word. He pretends he isn't bothered.
“We have someone to pick up. Then we’ll be on our way.”
She laughs, a scoff more than anything. She tilts her head again slightly, this time to the side as she re-analyses him.
“No. You leave now, or Ill fuckin’ make ya. You won't like how I do it.” She smirks darkly, knees bending slightly. “Miles certainly didn't. That's his name right?”
Miguel’s entire body tensed, ready to pounce and tear her to pieces, morals be damned.
Funnel-Web seems to ponder, her eyes are flickering on a strange ledge between amusement and cold indifference.
“I knew a Miles once,” she begins, her voice deceptively soft. Tender, even. Her gaze flickers to the platform where Miles is no doubt bleeding out on, the look near longing. She hums in thought, and the sound echoes slowly in the air around them, a strange melody Miguel is unfamiliar with, and it sets him on edge.
A flicker of white and pink from above, and blue and gold from the left.
“I killed him, too.”
The words stop Miguel’s heart, then the organ shudders in his chest. Goosebumps rise on his skin as he truly takes in Funnel-Web. She sways slightly, but not in a dizzy way, no, as if she's dancing to a beat only she can hear. Miguel imagines that if there was such a thing as a real life soundtrack, right here would be where all the instruments crescendo, where they clash over each other in a glorious mess of highs and lows.
And then all those instruments fall silent with her next words, like a planned orchestra just for Funnel-Web.
“This time will be no different.”
She lunges, and the frenzied violin and piano pick up, deep and screeching as Funnel-Web descends upon him, low to the ground and practically sliding across the ground at a superhuman speed. Mihuel readies himself, but barely has time to lower into a defensive stance before Funnel-Web is flipping out a web to a beam on either side of him, using them to pull her forward across the ground until she's barreling into Miguel's legs, bowling him over.
He recovers quickly, adjusting his fall into a forward roll across the ground, spinning to face the direction she disappeared into. A flash of purple, black, and silver to his left, and he turns just in time to catch a foot to his face with a muted crunch. Fuck, thats a ruined nose.
He takes it in stride, reaching out swiftly to grab her by the hair. At least he tries to, but she snaps her head forward harshly and avoids it. He lunges forward, going for a bear hug tackle, but Funnel-Web drops in a split that has Miguel mildly impressed, but he's repressing a lot right now, so it's behind him.
It seems like its in slow motion as Funnell-Web places her hands on the floor, swinging her legs up like some fucked handstand, the first leg missing him entirely, but the second clipping him in the jaw forcefully.
He’s sent back by a single step, and in that time Funnel-Web shifts into a walkover, but it seems near mangled. Her feet are close to her hands, contorting her back into an unnaturally high arc. She then stands, slowly, lifting from her hands as she falls from her contortion, and she turns to face him.
“What the fuck?”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Holy shit dude.”
Miguel’s exclamation comes at the same time as two others, and both he and Funnel-Web snap their heads to the sides.
Pavitr is right there, connecting an elegant low punch to Funnel-Web’s gut, sending her a few feet into the air, where Gwen meets her with an exaggerated double handed smackdown into the ground. Dust flies up as Funnel-Web connects to the concrete with a sickening crack.
If she hadn't nearly killed two of his kids, Miguel would have felt bad. Even been winced in her honour. But as Pavitr and Gwen came to stand on either side of him, Pavitr shaking out his fist with otherwise relaxed posture, and Gwen crossing her arms under her chest and looking entirely unimpressed with him, all sympathy vanished.
His pride in Pavitra and Gwen falls onto the backburner for a moment and he takes in the remaining two spider children in full. It’s made a little bit difficult by the dust that had kicked up from Gwen’s ‘K.O.’ but it's clear the two are largely uninjured.
“You couldn't take down one teenage spider person? Again? This can't be a coincidence, Miguel,” Gwen’s incredulous drawl brings him from his analysis, and he internally groans. After the Miles incident, which is still a spectacularly sore topic for the both of them, he had been given bucket loads of shit for allowing a teenager to escape not only him, but his universe, and then once more from him in Earth-616.
It sobers him, and a deep breath racks his body. He wanted to kill this girl, this teenager. They all encroached on her territory, aware of how she would react, and he nearly killed her for it. And if he hasn't killed her, he may have done something worse.
He’s still furious, beyond enraged, that she had hurt his kids. If they hadn’t had their regenerative abilities, she would have killed them, and the thought made him sick. Fuck. Even now, he knows the kids are on the brink. There's only so much regeneration can do. He needs to get them to safety, and now.
“Pavitr, go to Hobie, pull him back to HQ, report that Vulture has not arrived and the Rhino is dead. Come back only after Hobie is in the med-bay and stable.” Both Pavitr’s and Gwen’s eyes widen at the news of Rhino’s fatal defeat, grimacing. “Gwen, to Miles please. He needs intense medical attention now, use any and all of the nano-slings you can. I'll handle Funnel-Web. If you see Vulture-48, report but leave it. Your teammates are your priority. Go.”
The two teenagers nod at him without a wod, before swinging off. Miguel turned his gaze back to the now low-hanging dust across the ground, following the trails of blood out of the crater.
Funnel-Web stared right back.