Miles' little spider gang was talking about him.
Not that Aaron could hear them from here, but they weren't exactly being subtle. He'd retreated to the living room after Miles had vanished with Parker's aunt, and as soon as he had the spiders had gravitated towards each other. Now they were a tight, muttering huddle in the kitchen, the younger ones undisciplined enough to occasionally glance in his direction.
He flexed his claws thoughtfully, keeping a close eye on them—the tiny girl with the oversized robot had joined them for real in the last few minutes, stacking the already chancy numbers even more against him. Not that he particularly wanted to fight, given the odds with or without her, but the addition wasn't helping his peace of mind.
Didn't help either that he was standing around bare-faced in full costume, but he ignored the itching urge to pull his mask back on. He'd been accepted, sure, but he knew just how shaky that was. So with no identity left to protect here, no reason for the mask other than his comfort, he might as well let them see his face. It'd help to give them that little bit of distance from the Prowler, no matter how little he liked it.
He huffed a sharp breath out through his nose, giving in to the urge to pace. He could see them well enough from here anyway.
He'd thought this would be easier, going into it—not convincing them exactly, but his part in the whole thing. There was no elaborate lie for him to spin, no client on a hair-trigger for him to dance around. The spiders didn't care about him. They cared about Miles.
So all he needed to do here was to be honest. Well, be honest and let them see.
He hadn't realized he'd struggle with it. Stupid, he knew, now that he was in the thick of it; he'd given up more weak spots in the last hour than in the past decade alone. Even if these sorts would probably consider themselves above using Miles against him, knowing that didn't help him rewire his instincts one jot.
So you're uncomfortable. Get over it. You've earned all that and more.
And that was the truth of it, really; if this was the worst he had to deal with after what he'd done, then he was getting off ridiculously lightly.
But by the looks of that group, he probably wasn't entirely done. He wouldn't be surprised to hear some creative threats, maybe some bodily intimidation if they wanted to put their numbers to use, although they'd have to do it soon if they wanted to handle it while Miles was out of the room.
When he looked back to check on them again, one of the adults was now eyeing him up too. It was the one in all shades of black and grey, some kind of old-timey detective shtick—they were even calling him Noir, if Aaron had been hearing right. Their eyes met, but Aaron held his ground instead of turning away. They all knew the score here. There was no point in pretending he didn't know what they were talking about.
"Now he's looking right at us," Noir muttered, barely loud enough to catch the edge of Aaron's hearing. Aaron raised an eyebrow and kept watching. If it made them uncomfortable, all the better; he had no problem adding to the awkwardness if they were going to be so obvious about it themselves.
The oldest one looked up at that too, though—the one Aaron had pegged as the ringleader. And then, to Aaron's surprise, after a few more quick whispers he shook his head and shooed the rest of them apart, breaking them out of their huddle further into the kitchen instead of sending them Aaron's way.
But then he started moving towards Aaron himself—a slow amble as if he'd just decided to wander that direction, but Aaron backed up a few steps anyway, considering. Miles wouldn't be happy if Aaron clawed up his friends, even if they'd earned it, so he'd rather set up where he knew he had a few routes out of the house if this conversation turned ugly.
Not that he couldn't get out easily enough. A simple house like this, he could probably just go through the roof if he needed to. Might be a bit early to be thinking that drastic, though.
Parker left plenty of space between them anyway, leaning casually against the doorway to the kitchen instead of coming into the room. And this one really did look like Parker, enough that it had almost thrown Aaron off the first time he'd gotten a good look. The first Parker's body had been pretty mangled by the time Prowler had dragged him out, so running into his twin now, healthy and whole, was a bit of a weird feeling.
Miles was clearly fond of this one though and, the old woman aside, he was also obviously the closest thing they had to a leader. Time to play nice, then.
"So," Parker said, almost awkward, tapping the fingers of one hand against his chest. "Aaron, right?"
Aaron tried not to grimace—he'd had to unmask for this to work, he reminded himself, and this group would be gone soon enough anyway. No point in making a fuss about it. Parker's lip twitched like he'd caught the reaction, though, and Aaron immediately resigned himself to hearing his name ad nauseam.
Should have known.
"Need somethin'?" he made himself ask before Parker could pipe up with whatever childish ribbing had popped into his brain. Then, in the interest of getting it over with, he added, "Or didja just draw straws on who was gonna threaten me for hurtin' him?"
And there was no real need to specify which him Aaron was talking about.
"We're more of a 'nose goes' sort of crowd," Parker said, deadpan, and then sighed quietly and scrubbed a hand through his loose hair until it spiked up like a hedgehog. "Threats aren't really my thing, though, you know? And the kid packs a mean punch with that little zap, let me tell you. He can probably handle his own roughing up."
"He got you, huh?" Aaron picked up from that. He almost smiled at the face Parker pulled in response, even if he now couldn't tell if the guy was building up to something or just stumbling through some horribly awkward attempt at small talk.
He had better be building up to something.
"On accident," Parker grumbled under his breath. "You'd think if he got me just for surprising him, he'd have managed to get you at least once. Or did he?"
Parker squinted at him as though he'd be able to tell, and Aaron strangled the immediate urge to punt him back into the kitchen.
"No, he didn't," Aaron finally admitted, after deciding that none of your goddamn business probably wasn't going to fly here. He figured his tone was short enough to make his thoughts clear enough anyway. "But he's got it in hand now. Not that he's gonna need it with me."
Not anymore, at least. And for all that Aaron knew better than to ever voice the thought to anyone, he was honestly relieved that Miles hadn't been able to zap him last night. Miles might've gotten away without the injuries, sure, but Aaron might have never learned exactly who he'd been chasing either—maybe not until it was too late.
Those new marks on Miles' skin sat heavy in Aaron's gut, but thinking of how far he could have taken it without knowing chilled him right down to his bones.
Parker was just watching him quietly now like he could read the itch that was starting to prickle beneath Aaron's skin. Aaron glared at him, then stalked further away, as much as could be allowed in the small room without getting too close to the flimsy blinds. Still, he doubted Parker would take a hint.
"It really does bother you, doesn't it?" And yep. Parker, apparently no smarter than his original counterpart, actually stepped a little further into the room after him, coming to lean on the back of the couch. "I thought so, but—"
"There a point to this?" Aaron demanded, wishing yet again that he had his mask on if only to give his irritation more weight. It was, technically, a good thing that Parker barely reacted to his tone at all, but that didn't mean Aaron had to like it.
"Peace of mind, mostly," Parker said with a small shrug, something tired creeping into his expression. It made him look worn enough for Aaron to notice, when he hadn't cared enough to before. This man was definitely older than the original Parker had ever gotten, for all the good that did him. "Not like I'll be around much longer to supervise, either way"
As if his 'supervision' meant much at all—something had sent Miles running all the way back to Brooklyn, and Aaron had a pretty good idea of what. But no, no needling. He was playing nice.
Besides, Aaron remembered then, his chest tightening at his own gall, he'd kind of lost all room to talk when it came to Miles' safety.
"I'm not gonna hurt him," he told Parker with every ounce of conviction he had. He knew it still came out a bit short, for all that he'd earned all that doubt fairly, but fuck it. He was trying.
"I mean, no, I didn't think you'd try to injure him again or anything," Parker agreed, an awkward bob of his head taking out most of the sting his words might have carried. He didn't look all that comforted by it, though, his brows tightly furrowed, "but you can't tell me that invisibility wouldn't help with some of your trickier heists."
Aaron couldn't keep himself from tensing at that—because, of course, he'd already had that thought and more. And of course, Parker would have realized that way quicker than Miles. He didn't really seem to be picking a fight for it, though. Not yet, at least.
"Just...he loves you, anyone could see that. And I think he'd do a lot for you if you asked him the right way." Parker crossed his arms over his chest, lips twisting into a grimace. "So don't...if you're really trying not to hurt him—don't make him choose."
Aaron counted three breaths in and out, ruthlessly clamping down on the first instinctive reactions that clawed through him. No need to let Parker know just how close to home he'd hit.
"Don't think I'd like his choice if I tried," he finally said, the scrape of his voice the only thing he hadn't managed to stifle. The words were true enough too, no matter how little he liked them. There, he could do this: honesty, but not too much. Just enough to reassure. "And I wouldn't try. He's—"
Oh, but there, he'd already hit too much. All I have left would sound too dramatic and made him think of Jeff at the same time. The only good thing I haven't destroyed, maybe, though that wasn't much better, and he'd certainly had a go at proving that wrong too.
There was nothing he could say here that wasn't a glaring weakness, but he had to give them something.
"I wouldn't," he backtracked, and left it there with a glare, daring Parker to push it any further than that. But Parker didn't seem to want to. He only nodded, something softer about the expression that made Aaron want to hit him again.
"Good," Parker said simply. Then he smiled a little wistfully. "He is something else, isn't he?"
And you know what? That was fine. Enough tacit agreement in there to mean that Parker would probably leave the subject alone. It was good, even. Aaron unclenched his jaw and stuffed that sudden flare of possessiveness down with the ease of long practice.
"Always has been," he allowed, but for some reason that seemed to make Parker hesitate.
"Isn't it—" Parker stopped like he was rethinking whatever he'd been planning to ask. Aaron just stared at him, not particularly interested in making things easier on him, and finally, Parker continued, "You're really okay with him doing this?"
Aaron blinked at him. That was what he'd been waffling over? "Does it matter?"
"Does it matter?" Parker's face twisted like Aaron had insulted his mother. "He could die."
"Which is why I'm stickin' by him," Aaron pointed out in his closest imitation of patience. "'sides, you spiders seem pretty hardy, from what I've seen. Doubt he'll even need the help."
"That's not—" Parker made a jerky flailing motion that cleared up exactly nothing. "I mean, you were part of this whole project before. So if he does this and gets hurt, and you could have stopped him, but you didn't—"
"How exactly you expect me to stop a boy with super strength?" Aaron scowled at him. Was Parker trying to guilt him into something? But Parker looked even more frustrated at that, shaking his head with a toss that reminded Aaron a little of Miles.
There was clearly something he was missing here, but why Parker couldn't just ask straight out Aaron had no damned clue. He sighed. "Look, he's gonna be doin' this superhero thing whether I like it or not, and tellin' him otherwise'll just send him off alone. Only thing I got a say in is if I'm there to help him or not."
"But..." Parker started, then closed his mouth and scrubbed at his forehead with one hand, "...Right. Okay, just— Nevermind. Forget I asked."
Aaron eyed him, almost curious despite himself. He didn't think he'd ever seen the past Spiderman bothered overmuch, not in any personal way. Injured, sure, sometimes even desperate, but not much Aaron could have labeled as rattled, not even when he'd been crumpled at Kingpin's feet.
This one either wasn't as good at hiding it or just didn't give a shit anymore. But Aaron wasn't going to complain about it, not if it gave him a better handle on who he was dealing with.
"You good, man?" he asked, willing to fake it at least that far even if he didn't care one way or another about the answer.
Then Parker heaved a sigh and Aaron immediately regretted asking. He'd expected the politer, superhero-approved version of fuck off, not an actual answer, which was what this was already looking to be. But before he could figure out how to wriggle out of it without blowing Parker off completely, there was a chirp in his ear: three quick beeps.
He froze, and Parker immediately did the same—right, his hearing was probably amped up too. Though Aaron hadn't expected the rest of the wayward spiders to immediately appear in the doorway behind Parker, watching Aaron with intent eyes. Points to them: he'd nearly forgotten they were still hovering nearby, listening in.
At least this time Kingpin had sent a message instead of a direct call. Aaron could have handled either, but calling Kingpin sir in this house would probably undo any of the progress he'd done in getting them used to him. It was tempting to use his mask's systems as an excuse to pull it back on too, but he held off on the urge just a bit longer, fishing out his work phone instead.
"Kingpin's ready to move," he reported, already tracing the coordinates he'd been sent as he looked up at Parker. "Showtime."
"Everyone, break a leg?" Parker returned dryly, lips quirking and one eyebrow going up. Maybe Aaron hadn't been quite as successful as he'd hoped at hiding his more violent urges. "Better see if Miles is done."
The statement didn't seem to be directed at him, and sure enough, one of the spiders split off—the little white girl Miles was sweet on. Of course.
He didn't try to follow her; even Miles had shaken his head when Aaron had moved to join him the first time. It had stung, but he'd understood. Whatever base the dead Spiderman had set up, it wasn't Miles' to share. Still, he didn't know why they were trying so hard to keep him from even seeing. The backyard didn't exactly have a slew of options for hiding spots.
He acknowledged Kingpin's instructions absently instead, keeping half an eye on the now-antsy spiders. All that jumpiness meant they were distracted from him, at least, but he'd also have to step more carefully now if he did need to speak to them.
"Any idea who exactly we'll be looking at?" Parker asked him, a tight frown on his face. That should've been the first question out of him earlier if he'd had any brains, but this whole group seemed more the sentimental sort, so maybe it wasn't surprising.
"Octavius, obviously. And Scorpion was the hold-up to start, so he's another," Aaron shared, trying not to hesitate at all even as he also tried to avoid appearing too familiar with the setup. "Tombstone too if Kingpin's up to spare him. And with what he's got on the line, I'm guessin' he will be."
Parker frowned, but there was no confusion at any of the names; Aaron hadn't really expected there to be. For a multiverse, there sure seemed to be a lot of similarities that he'd seen. Except for the pig; it still kinda hurt Aaron's brain a bit to look at him.
"Same old friends. Oh goodie," Parker said flatly, his expression the opposite of enthused as he crossed an arm in front of his body in a lazy stretch.
"You even decided if you're runnin' or fightin'?" Aaron asked the group as a whole because he hadn't heard them discuss it one way or another. And the way Noir was rolling his neck and shoulders, like a boxer working out kinks before a match, was making him a bit suspicious.
It made them all look at him, which he didn't much like, but then they went back to looking at each other, and he figured he'd been right about the lack of a concrete plan. Of course.
"Sounds like we got the numbers on 'em, for once," Noir said, low and gruff, but Parker didn't look all that into the prospect.
"I mean, I'm all for sticking it to Kingpin whenever possible, but a fight like that'll probably take out the neighborhood."
"What about Aunt May?" the smallest girl piped up almost indignantly. She'd plopped herself down cross-legged on top of her bot, which was bouncing its light-up eyes from speaker to speaker like ping pong balls as they talked. This one had to be Peni if Aaron was remembering Miles right.
He was assuming, anyway. Hoping, even. If there was a spider younger than this, he was done, full stop. Who kept giving superpowers to these goddamn children?
No one had given Peni an answer yet when the back door sounded. The white girl came in first, her mask and hood already up, but right on her heels—
Well, would you look at that?
Pure black and bright red—enough of Parker's elements that there was no mistaking the inspiration, but there would never be any confusing them either. Miles spread his arms out for the room, eyes big and expectant behind the huge new lenses, but while his spider friends gathered around with interested noises and compliments, Aaron felt like his feet were stuck to the floor.
There was something about it—the symbol on the chest, maybe. Because it had clearly been sprayed on by hand, a little uneven and with drips left to dry, the way Miles liked to do. And it was Miles', all the way and no one else's, but it still made something in Aaron's chest swell too large and warm, something he didn't think he'd be able to put to words if he tried.
"Alright, alright," Parker called out, waving his arms like he was trying to herd a flock of chickens along. "Let's get it together, people, before we're surrounded by the hive of scum and villainy. Porker, that means you too!"
As the spiders piped down and spread back through the living room—and the pig (Porker? Really?) wandered back in from the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea—Miles sidled away from the door and a bit closer to Aaron. He sent a look Aaron's way with a slight little tip of his head and hell, this was where Aaron was gonna have to try anyway, wasn't it?
"Lookin' good, Miles," he murmured, which fell way short of what the kid deserved, but finding the right words at the right times had never been Aaron's strongest point. "Suits you."
Miles' huge eyes crinkled up at the corners, so at least it seemed to be enough for him, and Aaron was spared from the rare urge to keep fumbling for words like an idiot by May Parker's entrance.
"Do you have somewhere else you can go?" Parker asked her, all floppy hair and big, worried eyes like a high-strung dog. "Somewhere you can wait this out?"
"Oh, I'm sure I could find somewhere," she said, waving a hand, but by her tone, Aaron was suddenly quite sure that that was not the plan, "but it does seem like a waste, don't you think?"
"A waste?" Parker repeated warily, squinting at her like he too had caught on and didn't like where it was going. His black and white copy, in contrast, had visibly perked up.
"I'll take that to mean you've got a few ideas yourself," Noir said, tipping his hat down slightly with two fingers, and in response, May Parker smiled.
And at the prickle that smile sent up the back of his neck, Aaron sighed and finally pulled on his mask.
Oh, this oughta be good.
"You're late," Octavius said blandly when Prowler dropped down to the rooftop beside her.
So he was. Not by much, but with Miles placing himself solidly in the middle of this whole mess, he'd deemed that extra time an acceptable risk. Not like his punctuality was going to be Kingpin's biggest complaint after this.
And even under normal circumstances, Octavius' opinion wasn't the one that mattered to him, and she knew it. So he just stared at her, silent, until she gave him a flat look and turned away. Good. At least this group didn't expect him to be chatty. There wasn't any need for it—everyone knew the job.
Scorpion was perched at the edge of the building, his tail dancing in tiny, eager sways behind his head, and he only glanced Prowler's way with a jerk of his head, the barest acknowledgment. They were still missing one, though.
"Tombstone?" he asked Octavius, not needing to fake his impatience.
"He'll meet us there," she said, a small, sharp smile creeping over her lips as she looked back the way Prowler had come. She was lifting slowly upon her extra arms as she spoke, clambering over towards the edge in clear preparation to leave.
Prowler frowned beneath his mask, but only nodded as he joined her. Plans changed. The spiders would be able to adapt.
Of course, Miles wasn't exactly as experienced as everyone else, that knowledge a constant, niggling awareness in the back of Prowler's mind. He couldn't let it distract him, though, not when there was nothing he could change about the situation. Miles was a bright kid in his own right. And if this was the path he wanted to take, he'd have to start getting used to the curveballs quick.
So he resisted the urge to send off a warning—not worth the risk of these two noticing anything, however unlikely—and followed them over the edge of the roof.
It was early still, but the sun was well and fully up now: late enough for pedestrians, including a small flow of people moving to and from May Parker's front yard, Spiderman merch in hand. Most of them had the sense to bolt as soon as they caught sight of the incoming trouble, Octavius' and Scorpion's enhanced size and blatant approach as good as announcing their presence as soon as they turned onto the street.
There were, as usual, a few morons who didn't move nearly far enough, phones already raised and recording, and usually, Prowler would have been happy to let them stay and risk dying if that was what they wanted to do. But his new friends would be more sensitive about that sort of thing—and, if he was honest, he didn't want to force Miles to deal with collateral until it was unavoidable. That shit could get ugly.
So he chased them further away himself, landing on the nearest streetlight to flash his claws and snarl, the resulting sound piercing and inhuman past his modulator. Enough to send the stragglers to a much safer distance, and if it gave the spiders a better lock on his position, then so much the better.
When Prowler turned back around, Tombstone was swaggering up to join them, flicking away a toothpick and cracking his knuckles theatrically. Good timing too, just soon enough for the action instead of springing the trap early, but something was still tugging at Prowler's attention all the same.
He looked around further, searching for—
There. The car. One of Kingpin's, but it hadn't left after dropping Tombstone off; it was still idling a short ways down. Prowler watched it for a moment, his nape prickling.
Kingpin usually knew better than to publically involve himself in this sort of thing, between risks to both reputation and person. Bad for business all around. But it was pretty clear by now that this wasn't just business, so maybe Kingpin was too close to the issue to keep it professional anymore. Stupid for a man that experienced, even if Prowler recognized the hypocrisy in the thought immediately.
But that car wasn't moving, and if Kingpin was inside—
Leave it, before they realize something's wrong.
Prowler forced his attention away, breathing deep to counter the slightly quickened beat of his heart. It was minor. They could handle it when the time came. They would have to.
Octavius, at least, seemed to be too interested in the house to mark his distraction, and Scorpion was already scuttling around to the back with Tombstone on his mechanical heels, playing out their parts. Prowler settled down in a crouch on that lamp and waited; he'd always have let the heavy hitters go first, even without his foreknowledge and the very faintest flickers of movement nearby that his HUD kept picking up.
Still, he didn't stop himself from rolling his eyes when Octavius stretched out a limb to tap the doorbell politely, smirking all the while. Not that he minded the occasional theatrics, but she didn't even have the patience to see it through properly, pulling that same tentacle back only to immediately send it smashing through the door.
—which exploded back out at her in a white wave. Sticky spider webbing ballooned out like a net over her closest tentacles, tying them together as the trap Aaron had been waiting for went off and two spiders sprang out of their hiding spots on the surrounding rooftops.
Teenagers, Aaron sighed to himself, but he still watched intently as Miles and the white girl—Gwen, if he'd heard right—bowled into Octavius like skinny juggernauts, more energy than sense on the whole. Gwen darted past the webbed tentacles to kick her backwards off the porch, where Miles swung in to slam into her with both feet as though they were passing a soccer ball between them, knocking her down the street entirely.
Octavius yelped, but the webbing had only caught two of her four tentacles, so it didn't take her long to find her balance again. Miles and Gwen were already harrying her, though, playing on the advantage of surprise.
There was a roar from the backyard, Scorpion bellowing something Prowler couldn't make out. The other spiders had sprung their own surprise, he expected, supported by the appearance of May Parker in her now-empty front doorway, one wary eye over her shoulder towards the back as she gripped a baseball bat. At least she'd had the sense to move away, since it turned out they hadn't needed her after all.
He checked back on the kids almost compulsively. Miles didn't seem to be struggling too much dodging Octavius with Gwen to keep half her attention, although they seemed to be having some trouble pinning her down in turn. Given his way, Prowler might have jumped down to help quicken things up, but he'd been sidelined for a reason, as little as he liked it. And Miles wouldn't thank him for it either, especially not in front of the girl.
Besides, this fight would be good practice for Miles. Like giving a kitten half-dead prey to hunt. His battles would only get harder from here—might as well work out some of the early kinks while the other spiders were still around.
So Prowler sprang from the streetlight to the roof in one easy bound, moving to get a better vantage point of the backyard—maybe Tombstone had stumbled into some of the sticky tripwires they'd set up back there since Prowler hadn't heard any gunshots.
Then he noticed, with a quick, impulsive glance, that the car was no longer in the same place.
He narrowed his eyes, slinking up to crouch at the highest point of the roof. If Kingpin had run, then no loss on their end; May Parker had seemed sure that her late nephew had collected enough evidence to set the police on his trail once the collider came out. But just to be sure—
Scorpion slammed into the other side of the roof, a clumsy jump with half his legs tangled in webs, sending him smashing onto the tiles. But he was still moving, rolling and scrabbling away from the spiders vaulting up behind him—and either not noticing or not caring that Prowler was in his way.
Prowler dodged away and rolled off the roof entirely, narrowly avoiding Scorpion's bulk as it clipped his cape. Scorpion hit the ground right after him, but hard on his side; he'd been assisted off the roof, clearly, by Peni and Noir, both still close on his tail.
And there was Tombstone. He'd come crashing through the fence while Prowler hadn't been watching, guns missing and swinging wildly at Porker without actually managing to touch him as he danced over and around the blows, before whacking Tombstone in the face with— Was that a mallet? Where the hell had he pulled that from?
Parker had followed them out into the street, too. He seemed happy enough to leave Porker to his fight, heading towards Miles' ongoing scuffle with Octavius—and at the familiar flash of red and blue, Prowler almost leaped for him from sheer muscle memory.
He caught himself just in time and skipped a few steps back instead, twitching from the spark that had zipped through him in that moment, which now had nowhere to go.
He hadn't been happy when they'd asked him to stay out of the fight unless it all went sideways, but he'd nearly gone and proven the reason for it right there. And as close to the action as he was now, he was probably lucky that one of the spiders hadn't gone for him on instinct yet either.
So for all that it felt wrong—like he ought to be doing something in this chaos, helping one side or the other, or taking advantage while both were distracted—he just circled away from Scorpion's whipping tail and waited.
And it didn't look like it would take much longer as it was. With surprise and numbers, the only real disadvantage they had was the need to corral the fight away from houses and bystanders, and they were managing that well enough. Tombstone was down on his hands and knees, and Peni had just swung Scorpion into a pole by his tail. Octavius seemed to be holding up a little better, but with a third up against her—
And then all at once, like they'd all heard a signal that Prowler's ears couldn't pick up: every single spider went still.
Prowler froze with them, hunching low as his heart stuttered, ready to spring as soon as he could figure out why—
Oh.
"You want something done right," Kingpin was snarling, more to himself than to any of them as far as Prowler could tell. And for all that he looked crazed, wild-eyed and teeth bared, the gun he had pressed to May Parker's head was rock steady.
Shit. Shit shit shit, you knew he was here, how could you have been so goddamn stupid—
Prowler hissed a low breath to himself, ignoring the sensible voice in his head that told him to run as he eyed the stretch between them, desperately trying to think of a way to salvage the situation. None of them were close enough for a safe hit, except for May Parker, but for all that she looked mad enough to try, there was no guarantee that she'd be quick enough to keep her head.
If they were fast enough with a web, one of the spiders might be able to redirect the gun—but he knew they wouldn't, not with that risk. Nevermind that Tombstone was already staggering back up to his feet, Scorpion clumsily following suit. Nevermind that it was stupid to bend to this threat because Kingpin would just shoot her as soon as he finished killing the rest of them anyways.
But if Prowler made a move now and she died for it, he'd have every spider out for his head after, no matter if it saved their lives.
"Kingpin—" Parker barked from down the street, but Octavius nabbed him the moment he was distracted, wrapping him in one long arm and choking off whatever hopeless words he'd been about to try.
Prowler turned and scanned the street beyond them, his heart in his throat as Octavius raised herself up, spitting blood. Gwen was skittering back and forth in jerky little movements just out of Octavius' reach, head swinging between Parker's trapped form and Kingpin's hostage, but Miles—
Oh, good boy.
No sign of Miles anywhere, thank god. But Prowler flicked his eyes up to the rooftops, then slowly back towards Kingpin, subtle as he could, because there was no way Miles had done the smart thing and booked it, so...
"You thought you could stop me? Me?" Kingpin spat in Parker's direction, and Prowler knew immediately that they were running out of time. Kingpin wasn't patient on the best of days, but Prowler was pretty sure that something had snapped here. "I killed you once, I'll kill you again, as many times as it takes!"
And then, as if feeling Prowler's eyes on him, Kingpin's beady glare swung over the frozen spiders to land right on him. Prowler stiffened, setting his feet as ice washed down his spine.
"And you," Kingpin snarled, and Prowler had always known that this wouldn't go over well, but he'd kind of been counting on having the upper hand when Kingpin found out. "You're a dead man. Trying to cross me, and for what?"
Prowler didn't bother answering. There was nothing he could say now. Kingpin wasn't even feral enough to try and take a shot at him, sadly, which would have given May Parker the chance to use that baseball bat that she was holding so tightly.
But then, there was a reason Kingpin wasn't trying to deal with any of them personally. He didn't have to. Tombstone and Scorpion had turned towards him at Kingpin's words, realization creeping slowly across them until their expressions turned ugly. And with the spiders effectively neutered, there was nothing to distract them.
Lovely.
Scorpion, at least, only snorted something low to himself and then skittered around Peni's bot instead, eyeing her up as though deciding where to strike. But Tombstone had started for him, fists clenched, so Prowler started backing up slowly, breathing easy and deep as he slipped his claws into position to strike. Noir seemed to notice the danger, glancing between him and Kingpin with obvious reluctance, but Prowler didn't expect he'd be any help.
Well, he'd have done the same if it was Miles, but hostage or not, he wasn't going down here without a fight. And if it broke the standoff, then so be it, but he was hoping…
Any time now, Miles.
"You know this is being recorded," May Parker said suddenly, her firm, clear voice startling in the tension. "No matter what you do here, you're finished."
She sounded like she was informing him of the weather, not threatening him, but Prowler couldn't think why she'd want Kingpin's attention either way. Not unless she was crazier than he'd thought, but she didn't seem like the sort to try and remove herself from the board.
"Finished? I own this city," Kingpin roared, pressing the muzzle of his gun so hard against her head that her neck bent. "I want what's mine, and you're not stopping me—!"
And then the words choked off as Kingpin seized.
His gun fired as his hand jerked and tightened, but the bullet skimmed off into empty space as May Parker was already out of the way, faster than Prowler could follow, stumbling down the steps to her porch. And the shimmering, sparkling aura of blue around him—
—was crackling off the small hand that Miles had planted in the center of his chest, suddenly visible as the rest of the boy flickered into view, and Kingpin flew backward like Miles had kicked him, smashing through the stair railing to land in a still, crumpled heap on the ground.
"Pick on someone your own size," Miles called after him, which made no sense with his crackling teenage voice and his too-skinny limbs and hell, he was gonna try and follow Parker's footsteps with the quips, wasn't he? Prowler would have sighed if he hadn't been taking advantage of the distraction by slamming every ounce of power he had into his claws before burying his fist in Tombstone's face.
Fucking finally.
It launched Tombstone back a good ten feet, where he plowed into the ground with a strangled wheeze and a satisfying crash. Not as satisfying as digging his claws straight in, maybe, but after his conversation with Miles a few hours ago, Prowler wasn't willing to push his luck there just yet.
At the very least, that punch set the spiders off—set off was the right term for it, too, an explosion of brightly colored costumes and pissed off energy as Kingpin's leash slipped off entirely. Prowler was pretty sure he'd caught Noir swooping in to grab May Parker—and about damn time, they should have had that covered from the start—before he got too busy dodging around Tombstone's swings to care.
And Tombstone was stronger than him, but Prowler had always been faster, so on even ground without his guns, Tombstone didn't have much chance of hitting him. And maybe it was a little cathartic, getting a few good swipes in, but hey, he couldn't be expected to stand out of the fight if Tombstone was the one keeping it going, could he?
But Prowler knew better than to let his fun distract him for too long. He could already hear the distant wails of approaching sirens, and maybe the spider-kind wouldn't be shot on sight, but he wouldn't get any such leeway.
Time to get serious, then. Tombstone was annoyingly sturdy under those modifications, but the point had never been to kill him. One good, hard hit in the right spot ought to knock him down long enough for a spider to wrap up—and right as Prowler was considering his shot, Miles came barrelling in with a kick that Tombstone never saw coming, sending him pitching forwards.
And he hadn't been expecting the help, but he was more than capable of taking the opening, and from Miles? Hell yeah. One swing, and he sent Tombstone slamming back against the nearest telephone pole, clearly dazed by the sway of his head.
"Nice hit, Uncle Aaron!" Miles chirped at him, sounding entirely too perky as he dashed by, hand raised out in a position that, when paired with that voice, Prowler instinctively met with a high five. Then he was away before Prowler could scold him—they were gonna have to work on the name thing—and so he let it go, shelving it for later.
They still had a fight to finish.
Miles was already full speed into the renewed battle with Octavius, anyway, where Gwen had already broken Parker free and was now apparently unleashing all of her aggression at once. And despite her extra arms, Octavius looked like she was struggling just to think, so Prowler left them to it again.
He'd burned his bridges pretty well there, he was sure, but there was no point in salting the earth. He'd be more useful keeping an eye out for any further interruptions.
Scorpion was down when he checked, Peni and Porker gleefully sticking him down to the street with a truly ridiculous amount of webbing. It seemed like Noir had done the same to Kingpin, and he was in the middle of cocooning Tombstone to the pole he'd fallen against by the time Prowler looked back again.
"Well, that coulda gone smoother," he sighed, looking up, and Prowler blinked when he realized the statement was meant for him, "but all's well that ends well, I suppose."
Prowler made a soft noise of disagreement because they weren't even finished yet, and overconfidence was what had gotten them in trouble to begin with. But even as he watched, Miles finally made it past Octavius' grasping arms and zapped her too, his friends bouncing in only moments later to drag her down to the ground.
Damn useful, that shock—Prowler probably ought to look into some protective mods for his suit.
Not that he had any plans to go up against Miles, he corrected himself quickly. But considering the kid had now taken down two experienced fighters with that little trick, it only made sense for Prowler to deal with his own weak spots in that area before someone else tried it. And he wouldn't say no to an equivalent offense, either.
"Fast learner," Noir said. He was watching Miles too when Prowler glanced at him, eyes narrowed in apparent thought. "Could still use some sharpening up, though."
"He did better'n the rest of us," Prowler snapped at him without thought, because even if Miles' form was a bit sloppy, none of them had had any worthwhile plans to stop Kingpin that he'd seen. But Noir only tipped his head in easy agreement, and Prowler reigned himself in, a bit of heat tingling up his neck. "I'll work with him."
"Shouldn't take him long at all," Noir said, giving him an almost approving nod, and wandered back towards the house as the others finally finished tying Octavius down and came to join them.
With the fence down, Prowler did catch sight of Porker leading May Parker out of the shed in the backyard where she'd taken shelter—shocking, that location, he never would have guessed—but he was too distracted by Miles' approach to care, trying to pick out any injuries on him as Miles whirled across the yard to thump into his side, a bright, vibrating ball of cheer.
"That was crazy," he breathed, a grin in the cast of his voice, and Prowler was viscerally reminded yet again of just how young he was, how few fights he'd seen. No doubt he'd be shaking all over soon, though he didn't seem hurt. Small mercies. "Did you see— Uncle Aaron, did you see—?"
"Code names for a reason, kid," Prowler reminded him, but he tugged Miles in with one arm before the kid could take it too personally, arm around the front of his chest to put Miles' back to his front, "but yeah, I saw you. Ya did good, man. Pulled us out of a tight spot, there."
Miles brightened impossibly further, looking up at him with those happy, crinkly eyes, and Prowler tucked him in tighter, the feeling of him solid and safe, soothing a twitchiness that he hadn't felt from a fight in years. He could keep his mouth shut about the rest of it for that, especially when May Parker looked annoyed enough for the both of them anyways, making her apologies for all that she looked ready to kick Kingpin while he was down.
"—how I let a man that size sneak up on me," she was saying to the oldest Parker, voice taut and her hands on her hips. "Ought to be ashamed of myself, really—"
Prowler would have agreed with her there, but Parker just wrapped her in a tight hug, one she returned after a second of stillness. "I'm glad you're alright."
Touching. Prowler might have commented, but considering that he hadn't let go of Miles yet, he'd only be inviting the same in return. And for all that she'd nearly ruined everything, May Parker was still the most sensible of the bunch because she only allowed the hug for a few moments before pulling away and waving them all off. "Yes, yes, yes, I'm alright. Now, you've done your part; I'll handle it from here. Get yourselves home safe before something else pops up."
This was, apparently, the signal for the spiders to swarm her with goodbyes, Miles included, but at least they were keeping it quick now. The adults were already starting to web away by the time Miles wrapped it up, when she held him back for a moment longer with a hand on his arm.
"—and feel free to come back whenever you've got the time, dear," Prowler heard her say, and though the words were directed at Miles, her gaze rose to Prowler's and held. He couldn't quite tell if it was an invitation or a warning, or both, but he inclined his head all the same.
She knew enough about him now to send the police to his doorstep too, for all that she didn't seem likely to right now. And while he couldn't say he was happy about it, he could see the good side of having someone else on hand to protect Miles, even from him.
Especially from him, for all his good intentions. Miles might be soft on him, but she wasn't. She'd hold him to it.
So he just waited until Miles made for the rooftops and then followed him up, already out and away as the first of the police cars peeled around the corner.
After all that fuss, getting into the collider was almost disgustingly easy.
Well, and that had been the point of it, getting Kingpin's muscle out of the way before the stakes reached all or nothing. They'd gotten lucky to pin Kingpin down at the same time, and then somehow luckier still when it became obvious that Kingpin hadn't had the time or the mindset to communicate Prowler's betrayal to the rest of his men.
So all the armed guards in the world didn't matter when all Prowler had to do was pop up menacingly in front of them and send them off on some fake task with barely a growl. It wouldn't hold forever, but all they needed was long enough.
The scientists they had to tie up—Prowler had nowhere believable to send them, and as a sort they were far less likely to take orders from him anyway. And then they were powering up the collider, Peni's earlier studying easing their way through.
Prowler knew some things about the running of it himself, gleaned in passing. Octavius and the rest of the eggheads had never gone to much trouble to keep their side of the work secret around him. He'd always gotten the distinct impression that they'd thought he wouldn't be able to follow it, and he wouldn't have dreamed of correcting them, not when it gained him all sorts of interesting things.
So between knowledge and necessity, he'd be the one down in the control room. Simple enough, and Peni was doing most of the work to set it up as it was.
"—and if these readings get too high, just shut it down again, as long as no one's jumping. We can always start over, but you don't want to let it get too far out of hand," she nattered away at him. Prowler wasn't sure how he felt being lectured by a girl barely up past his hip, but if the intel was good, then the source didn't matter, so he only nodded along.
Seemed like they'd softened to him quite a bit since the fight, for all that he hadn't done much overall. Maybe because they thought he couldn't, or wouldn't, do much damage at this point, and they were probably right, but it was still odd to be left on his own with only a few nods instead of suspicious looks. If it hadn't only been a few days, he'd have been tempted to blame them for Miles' own overdeveloped sense of trust.
Oh well. He'd work more sense into Miles. Probably.
But Miles was up there now too, override key in hand, and so Prowler did his part and flipped the switches, and out came the vortex of light.
It was beautiful, he could admit, even if he didn't like Miles' proximity to it. And the spiders didn't waste much time, at least; they crouched there together, upside down on the roof just long enough that Prowler started to wonder if something was wrong, before one by one they started to drop away, flares of color and abstract shapes flashing out as they hit the light and vanished.
Then it was just Miles and Parker, lingering behind for one reason or another. By the slight gestures Miles had started to make, Prowler thought they might actually be arguing. He glanced over the screens—levels holding stable enough for now—and wrestled back the urge to move them along one way or the other.
For all that he was ready for this day to be over, he could wait a little while longer.
And there, finally: Miles leaned in, a clumsy hug that left him hanging from the ceiling by only his feet, causing Prowler's heart rate to spike, and by the time he'd calmed it down again, Parker had let go of him and dropped, his freefall the most graceful Prowler had seen him until he, too, was gone.
Leaving Miles alone in his perch on the ceiling: a tiny black figure planted in the middle of that huge white room, the swirling lights of the multiverse painting highlights across the dark of his suit as he stared down into it like a challenge, unafraid. He seemed like more at that moment, for all his size a mountain against the storm, and Aaron stared up at him, almost transfixed, the beat of his own heart nearly drowning out the roar of the lights as goosebumps slid down his neck to his shoulders.
He knew the line, that Spiderman was a symbol as much as a person, but looking up at Miles now, it was the first time Aaron thought he could believe it.
Then Miles hit the button, obvious because the collider shuddered immediately, and —
Oh no.
—there was no time to run, no time to think, not even of Miles, because Aaron was holding on for deep life, grating his claws in deep against the drag, and they'd thought they would have more time, they hadn't thought it would happen this fast—
—and then he was flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him, coughing on dust and smoke as he wheezed from the force of the explosion.
He staggered upright, his ears ringing, heat vision flicking on without a thought as he scoured the damaged room for movement, but he only suffered a few moments of panic before Miles tumbled down to land on the blown-out windowsill, visibly shaky himself.
"I'm okay," he said immediately, and Aaron could finally breathe properly again. Miles stumbled over to him, ignoring the debris in his way to latch onto Aaron's cape. "Are you—?"
Aaron grabbed him and pulled him in close, almost careless with his claws in his urgency, and Miles let the words die off, hugging him tight instead. Safe, he was safe, they were both still here.
They had made it through alive.
"Hell'uva night," Aaron said on the tail end of a yawn that he hadn't bothered to stifle. "You sure this is how you want to spend your free time?"
He made sure to keep his tone teasing and in turn, Miles only tipped his head like he was rolling his eyes, still watching the swarm of police below from the perch on Fisk Tower that they'd come to rest on. Aaron couldn't see his eyes to know for sure, since the kid had thankfully taken his advice and only pushed his mask up to his nose, but the gesture was pretty familiar.
(Hopefully, Miles would remember later, too. You'd think a kid who'd grown up with cameras and drones would know better, but—)
"With great ability comes great accountability," Miles intoned in a deep, serious voice. Then he froze stock-still before Aaron could even parse the strangeness in that sentence. "Wait, no. Arrgh, now he's got me doing it."
He fell back against the roof, spread-eagled and groaning, and Aaron snorted at him. He could guess where Miles had gotten that one.
At the thought of Jeff, Aaron glanced down at the cops below, sobering a little. He had a slight advantage with his night vision, but he couldn't pick his brother out of the crowd if he was down there at all. Might still be dealing with the mess they'd left in Queens, though Aaron would bet money that he was at one or the other.
Miles shuffled around to follow his gaze, stretched out on his front with his chin on the edge. Then he muttered lowly, "I'm gonna be in so much trouble."
And...well, yeah, that was true, but there was another thought pushing hard in the back of Aaron's mind. And two days ago, or even just this morning he'd have put it off again, because he didn't want to bring it up, but…
He thought again of Miles in the collider, alone and untouchable, so very far from the kid that Aaron had known since he'd been in diapers, the one that'd come running to him with runny noses and split knees. The image had faded now with Miles flopped out and groaning like the teenager he was, but it was still there.
You swore to be better, didn't you? Stop being a coward.
"You thought any more about tellin' your parents?" he asked Miles quietly.
"Not really," Miles grumbled, rolling his head to watch Aaron with one narrowed eye. "Thought you didn't think I should, either."
Aaron had never said straight-out, he was sure of that much, but it was also true. He let his lip twist under his mask at the thought of being so easily read—and maybe a bit at the memories that he wasn't all that eager to share.
But still, he shrugged and said, "Maybe not, but considerin' how your dad an I got where we are, I don't know that my advice is the best sort to be takin' here."
Miles rolled onto his side to look at him fully, eyes going wide. Fair, since Aaron had always gone out of his way to avoid bringing this up in front of Miles, and he knew well enough that Jeff had done the same. Still felt a bit like pulling teeth, even after all this.
"This sort of thing...it changes you, y'know? Not all in bad ways, but enough." Aaron knew Prowler wasn't an exact parallel to what Miles was doing, but it was close enough for him to feel confident in what he was saying. "But your folks, they ain't gonna know what they're lookin' at. And it's easier than you'd think to just...lose touch. To look at who you're talkin' to and realize you don't know 'em anymore. And I don't want that to happen to you."
"Is that what happened to you?" Miles asked him, serious and almost wary, like he wasn't sure the question would be welcome. And this wasn't anything Aaron liked thinking about, but if it was for Miles...
"In a way, I guess. Me 'n Jeff, we...yeah, we fell apart slow. And I won't say he had no part in it, 'cause he did—" Aaron bit his tongue. Not to the kid, for fuck's sake. "But I did more'n enough to drive that wedge in, too, even without givin' him Prowler. Things he couldn't stand for, promises I let down—just lied too many times, maybe. Someone lies to you enough, you gotta wonder if you can trust anything they say, and once you lose that trust…"
He left it there; let Miles make the connection himself. But Miles had sat up and was now staring at him silently, huge eyes solemn like he was now contemplating the end of the world. Aaron sighed, the tiredness he'd been shoving off sinking new claws into his brain.
"It'll be different for you," he said, and that the words weren't bitter at all on his tongue was its own kind of relief. "He's your dad; you ain't gonna lose him. But you do this thing, you're gonna be lyin' to him left, right, and center and he ain't stupid, Miles. It's gonna hurt you both."
"But if I tell him, he'll never let me do it at all," Miles protested immediately, and Aaron huffed at him.
"All those spiders sayin' otherwise and your powers on the fritz and you still went into this headfirst," Aaron reminded him, "but you tellin' me now that you're gonna stop 'cause your daddy said no?"
"Cheap shot, man," Miles complained, but by the hunch of his shoulders, Aaron knew the point had hit. "He's my dad."
"And he knew you were gonna leave the nest eventually." Aaron made sure to gentle his tone a bit. "Maybe sooner than he'd like, maybe not the way he'd like, but you hold your ground on this and he's either gotta give or lose you. And believe me, he don't wanna lose you."
Miles didn't answer, face turning back to the cops below. Aaron couldn't blame him for it—he knew Jeff's disappointed face better than anyone. But the path Miles was starting down felt so damn familiar, and what kind of uncle would Aaron be if he let Miles go headfirst into the same obstacles without saying anything?
"I tried to have both. Tried to have Prowler and family and just keep 'em separate, and you saw how that went. With you and your dad both, turns out," Aaron admitted. "I just think...you're gonna need everyone you can get in your corner, you know? And your folks seem like the place to start. 'specially now, when you still got control of that choice."
"Easy for you to say," Miles mumbled, almost reluctant enough to be resentful. "You're still not gonna tell him about you, are you?"
"No," Aaron agreed slowly, not looking for the argument that could easily ignite here, "but a supervillain's a bit of a different story. Not like you fighting for truth, justice, and the American way, all that heroic jazz. He'll be proud, I think when he's had some time to think about it."
"Next decade?" Miles sounded more wry than annoyed now, though, so his hackles were probably coming down. Then he sighed deeply, tucking himself up into a loose ball. "Ugh, he's gonna be so mad. I'm gonna be grounded 'til I'm thirty."
Sounded like he was coming around, if not enthusiastically. Aaron still knew better than to push right away.
"I'll break you out," he offered off the cuff. "Stealin' people can't be that much harder than things."
Miles snorted and then shoved a hand over his mouth almost guiltily.
"Not funny," he said, though his voice betrayed him, the little liar.
Aaron smiled to himself and let things smooth down between them for a few warm, quiet beats before asking quietly, "So?"
"Yeah, alright," Miles sighed, and Aaron didn't know if it was relief that settled into him, exactly, but it was something close. "Just...not right away, okay? No one even knows I'm here yet. I gotta show him I can do it first, or it'll be twice as hard."
That was kind of a good point, even if Aaron thought Miles might be wrong on people knowing about him. They'd have recorded him in Queens at a minimum, if only in the group, and if he was unlucky someone might have already gotten a shot of them together right here. But Aaron could understand wanting a few big wins under his belt first—Miles really would need all the help he could get for that conversation, necessary or not.
"Longer you wait, the harder it'll be," he warned, finally pushing out of his crouch to rise to his feet and stretch, "but I won't say any more about it for now. It's yours to tell, in the end."
"I'd have told you, you know," Miles said quietly, but the words still hit Aaron right in the gut. "It's why I came over last night, even though I wasn't sure you'd be there."
Aaron breathed deep and stared fixedly out over the rooftops below them, jaw clenched against the small, almost-queasy turn of his stomach. He didn't even think Miles meant it for guilt, maybe even as far as a compliment, but that only made it worse.
"Well, you got there eventually. Despite my best efforts," he finally managed to say. The tone was jarring in his head, but he was trying not to shove that guilt at Miles every time it came up. "And just think, there's no way tellin' anyone else can go worse. Should be a breeze after that."
It made Miles snort again, at least, and he grabbed onto Aaron's claws easily enough when he offered them down, letting Aaron pull him to his feet.
"And you know you got me in your corner, right?" Aaron added clumsily, not able to leave it on a joke, not when it was about what he'd done. "Even if you don't ever want to tell your dad, or anyone else. You can count on me when you need to."
And he wouldn't have blamed Miles for not believing it, after all the lies and absences and hurt. But Miles just smiled at him, chin still visible under his lifted mask, standing easy at Aaron's side.
"Yeah, I know," he said, quiet confidence in his acceptance, and Aaron could only thank every god he knew of to hear it there. He certainly hadn't earned it.
Well, you're about to start trying.
Miles tugged his mask back down and swayed to bump Aaron with his shoulder. "Race you back to your place?"
Really, the kid still had energy for that? Aaron was feeling his age now, but there was also no way he'd live down backing off that challenge.
"Rematch," he agreed and was entirely unsurprised when Miles bolted for the edge before the word was even fully out of his mouth, flinging himself off the roof as easy as breathing. He'd picked up on that quick. Smart boy.
"Now who's cheatin'?" Aaron called after him, only half a step behind, but Miles just somersaulted into his fall and webbed away, his laughter a faint echo behind him.
Aaron grinned and then changed direction—Miles barely knew the city on foot, much less the rooftop shortcuts, and Aaron was going to take advantage while he still could. Wouldn't be long before the kid outstripped him there too.
And damn, was he looking forward to it.