Chapter Text
Blood red matter wrapped over limp limbs, sinking into cold skin, commanding muscles that were now utterly lax. The joints were not yet stiffened, and so the body moved, standing upright on two feet though it could hardly be considered a man anymore.
It had a body, but it was not satisfied. The feet lurched forward clumsily, for all strength relied on it rather than the body.
It was dead, yet living. It had form, and for the moment it was content without a human will trying to battle against it, but it would need something more eventually. It pulled upon the memories of its progenitor, the one called Venom, and searched. A man swung through the memories, full of strength, full of power.
The Spider.
The lips that were already paling in death curved into a monstrous smile. The Spider would make for an excellent host, and it would succeed where Venom had failed.
Miguel had grown more and more accustomed to the presence of Mayday Parker. It could not be helped, given her father’s propensity for bringing her to the Spider-Society. At first, he had thought it annoying and irresponsible. He was certain he would never have brought his daughter to the Society, powers or not, but Mayday herself began chipping away at that hard viewpoint. Once he began to realize just how much of a menace she was, and how her mother apparently had no powers to speak of, he understood that Peter was perhaps a little justified in bringing her around. At least there were plenty of Spiders to search for her when she inevitably escaped Peter’s hold.
It started, of course, when Peter forced him into babysitting against his will. He had wanted to run far, far away then, for when he looked at her he saw another girl twice lost. But something greater than his regret made him look after her, his heart seeming to break and mend when the little hands touched his own, the guileless smile shining at him.
But he truly began to acclimate to Mayday when she decided she liked him. Why she liked him, he could not say. He chalked it up to her taking after her father, who had no sort of instinct for understanding when people—namely himself—didn’t want anyone around. But where he snapped and snarled at Peter to leave him alone, he could never do that with Mayday, even on the worst days. She was too young to understand, though he got the sense she grasped some things at a base level.
So Miguel accepted her presence. He didn’t consider himself trying to encourage it, but that seemed to be the end result nevertheless. If Peter didn’t bring Mayday to him, she would do it herself eventually if given the opportunity, and she was becoming unnervingly efficient at it. Of all the Spiders in all the universes, he considered himself one of the least kid-friendly. Malformations of his body, and his general downcast mien, did not scream friendly neighborhood. But Mayday did not care about these things. She was almost always full of smiles, as though she were making up for what he did not possess, and he slowly grew more comfortable with her being around. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would wonder what was going on in her world, and worry would strike his thoughts. It was a stupid thing to allow, considering his knowledge of the multiverse canon. What happened had to happen, even if…even if—
“Meh!” A sticky strand of webbing latched itself to Miguel’s back, but he hardly felt the pull as a tiny body sailed towards him. Little hands and feet landed on his shoulder, almost slipping but not quite, and a high, cheerful voice spoke directly in his ear. “Gah!”
Miguel winced, tilting his head away from the noise. “Ay, not so loud.”
Mayday laughed, flopping belly-first onto his shoulder. She had a backpack on, one sized appropriately for a child though it still practically swallowed her whole. The presence of the backpack told Miguel that her appearance was not accidental or spontaneous.
“Peter Parker has entered the building,” Lyla’s disembodied voice said.
“So I noticed,” Miguel replied, trying to get a hold on his exasperation. The sun was setting, which meant it was nearing his off hours, not that he could truly call them that. In the lull of activity of the Spider-Society in the nighttime, he took that time to tend to himself and his own dimension. The work never ceased, but he trusted Lyla to take care of things when he had to leave. But as he had found, just because it was nighttime in his dimension did not mean it was elsewhere. Mayday’s dimension was one of these, which seemed to operate at least a few hours before his. Thus, being saddled with her around this time of day had become somewhat common, though he swore Peter was doing it to test how long he lasted before collapsing.
And yet, he could not refuse Mayday. He rejected and dismissed other Spiders’ requests all day long, but he could not do the same with her.
“Oh, good. I was hoping she went straight to you,” Peter said behind him
Miguel instinctively grabbed at Mayday when she threatened to slide off his shoulder, turning to face the other man. His brusque reply was delayed when he noticed Peter looked more disheveled than usual. He looked a little battered, his suit smeared with dirt and torn in a couple of places. Stranger still, he was missing his usual baby sling and bathrobe ensemble.
“What is it now, Parker?” Miguel droned, trying to ignore the soft palm pressing against his cheek. “It’s late.”
“Not in my dimension! Besides, the sun’s still up. You sound like an old man with that kind of talk.”
“Just get to the point.”
Peter sighed, running a hand through his wild hair, which looked like it had suffered from one too many mask removals. “Well, my Mysterio is wrecking Midtown, and I don’t want him to see May, obviously. I just barely got away with it.”
“And so you want me to watch her until you get back,” Miguel said drily.
“Exactly! You’re getting better at this.”
Miguel’s plans of actually resting a bit were dashed, but the kid dangling off his shoulder could not be denied. In her own way, she offered a reprieve from all the stress that came with being Spider-Man, and managing a whole multiverse of Spiders on top of that. If she was around long enough, she would make an interesting change to his typical nighttime activities.
But for the sake of not encouraging Peter to dump the kid on him whenever, he asked, “What about Gwen?”
“Hobie’s.”
“Peni Parker?”
“School night.”
“Noir?”
“I’m not gonna entertain that idea. She sticks out too much. Besides, I know you’ll keep her safe here.”
Miguel was taken aback for a moment. He did not think himself worthy of such trust, considering the child he had twice failed to protect, but Peter seemed to overlook that entirely. Either the man saw something he didn’t, or he was entirely too trusting. Probably the latter.
“What’s the verdict here?” Peter pressed. “I don’t have a whole lot of time to hang around.”
Miguel glanced at Mayday, who smiled like she knew he had already made up his mind. “It’s my off hours, so if you’re not back here by my version of midnight, I’m going to bed, kid or not.”
“You’re the best! Now I gotta go. That Daredevil guy will actually kill me if he ends up fighting Mysterio alone…”
“Midnight!” Miguel called as Peter opened a portal. All he got was a hand wave in return, and then Peter was gone, leaving him alone in his darkening office with Mayday. He looked at her, and she looked at him before sliding forward, half climbing and half falling into his waiting arms.
“Looks like you have a little assistant again,” Lyla noted.
Miguel scoffed quietly but did not bother trying to deny the observation as Mayday situated herself, nearly turning herself upside down in the process.
“She might replace me one day,” Lyla continued. “She has the potential.”
“You’re right. She’s far less annoying.”
“Just wait until she starts talking. Then we’ll see who’s the annoying one.”
Mayday babbled something like a greeting, oblivious to their conversation. She seemed to take the hectic life of a Spider in stride, not overly upset or concerned when she was temporarily separated from her parents. That was a relief, considering it had been a difficult battle with his own daughter.
“Hola, mija,” Miguel said softly in return. He could never consider her annoying, not really. “Guess it’ll be you and me tonight.”
Mayday hummed, swinging her feet. She felt that Miguel was in relatively good spirits, which made her happy in turn. Sometimes he wasn’t, but he had always been kind to her, and she loved coming to see him. He was good and safe; the Spider inside her told her so.
She reached for his desk, though the straps of her backpack hindered her movement, and she almost toppled out of Miguel’s arms. He grabbed at her, setting her down carefully on the table before helping her to free her arms from the backpack.
“You have to be careful.” He knew such warnings were largely pointless until she got a better grasp of words, but he spoke them anyway. “You may be tough, but you’re not indestructible.”
Mayday, of course, gave no indication that she had understood, eagerly digging into her backpack once Miguel helped her with the zipper. The items she pulled out were her usual array of childish treasures: her lopsided Spider-Man had that Miguel was convinced Peter had knitted himself, the set of building blocks she enjoyed stringing up in various places, and a stuffed spider with dangly legs.
Miguel caught the blocks that threatened to bounce off the desk with one hand, reaching for his cooling cup of coffee with the other. Though Mayday’s presence had given him a little burst of energy, it would not stay that way forever. He took a sip and blanched at the stale taste.
“Uwah?” Mayday saw the cup and reached for it curiously, but Miguel pushed the little hands back gently.
“No, pobrecita. Even if this was good for you to have, this one isn’t good.” He searched for the trash bin, calling, “Lyla, I need a new batch of coffee!”
“More?” Lyla’s judgmental tone came seeping down from above. “Seriously?”
“Parker could be gone thirty minutes or three hours, and there’s no one else to take the kid.”
“You could have just told him ‘I can’t do it’.”
“And have Parker take the kid into a fight with Mysterio?”
“When are you gonna admit you just like having her around?”
Miguel searched for the hologram to glare at, but she had not manifested, likely to make himself look silly staring at the air. “Miercoles, just make the coffee!”
Mayday snickered, dampening his burgeoning frustration. No more snarky replies came, so he figured Lyla had finally gone to do her job, and he sighed, leaning heavily against the desk. Mayday crawled over, dragging her spider toy with her, and propped herself against his arms.
“I have some work to finish up, but once I’m done, I’ll take you on a swing or something. Bien?”
Mayday held out the spider to him, and he took it, a little smile threatening his serious composure as he squeezed the soft toy gently.
“Gracias, mija.”
It had found the Spider some time ago. It hadn’t taken long, retracing the steps found in the flashes of memory inherited from its predecessor. However, it had remained out of sight, watching from afar. Something was different now, changed from when Venom had come. There was not just one Spider anymore; there were many, varying in size, shape, and strength, and at first sight it had seemed like the perfect situation. But then it had restrained itself. It was one, and the Spiders were many. Some might even be incompatible with it. They all came from different places, their forms squeezed into the confines of this universe, and one wrong move could break something, badly. All of them did not belong here.
All but one.
It knew the one that belonged here, the one Venom had known, but he was always with the other Spiders, always surrounded by them. It was too dangerous to leap in. It had to be patient, to bide its time, search for weakness. So it waited, sustained by the lifeless body it had taken. The flesh did not rot beneath its hold, for it was slowly being subsumed into its being, and it became stronger. How much stronger it would become when it took the Spider!
It watched.
It waited.
It saw the child. It saw how the Spiders kept her close. She was the future.
So young, so weak, so powerless!
Perfect.
And so it bided its time, waiting in the shadows, waiting to strike.