Note: So, been a bit, partly because there were a lot of bits I wasn't sure how to transition between naturally that I have wanted to do about as badly as any bits in any story I've ever written. Partly because I've been catching up on almost a month's worth of office work and slowly recovering form COVID. While learning that my COVID infection HAS fucked with some foods and tastes I really enjoy. All my favorite hot sauces have lost a lot of their various flavor complexities, and I almost can't tell pepperoni is on pizza anymore save the texture differential. I weep for my broken taste buds, and the little bit of sweetness in Lawrence's Fish and Shrimp hot sauce I can no longer taste.
But enough about MY sadness! Let's get on to MILES' SADNESS!
As always, I do not own Spider-Man nor any affiliated properties. Please, review, comment, or criticize (you all give me strength and fuel!). Most of all, enjoy!
Retrograde
Chapter 6
What had he done? The question reverberated over and over in Miles' mind as he crumpled up the layer of human skin he'd peeled off a man, and dropped it at the man's feet. To be sure, Wilson Fisk had almost certainly had near as bad done to others, possibly worse. But… that wasn't…
And the thoughts intruded once again. Miles G.'s identity was all but assumed by every would-be hero and ruling/enforcing supervillain in CNY on Earth-42. No one dared believe that Aaron Davis would train and hand his mantle down to anyone he didn't trust absolutely, and that left only his nephew. But despite the Prowler's many disruptions and cut-ins, thefts and half-charitable-half-self-serving handouts to the people of CNY, none of the many villains had targeted him personally. None of them had come after the weakened, retired Aaron Davis, or the civilian nurse Rio Morales.
Both Miles' suspected that had everything to do with the fact that Miles G.'s first act as Prowler had been to hunt down and impale The Scorpion on her own stinger. He'd left her lifeless body hanging from the neck by her tail in the middle of Time Hex; payback for the murder of Jefferson Davis, and a warning to all others who might think to try something similar to keep the new Prowler in check.
'You hurt my family, you DIE.'
Safe was the LAST thing Earth-42 was, but Rio Morales there was safer than she had any right to be considering what her son did most nights.
And maybe… Maybe…
FUCK.
"What're… you waiting for?" Fisk gasped out, and winced as the movements agitated the hyper-sensitive layers of muscle and skin that usually had far more coverage, that bled profusely down his jaw and soaked his shirt and suit jacket. And Miles chuckled darkly at that, and let the thoughts burrow both further outward and deeper inward.
"Cause you don't get off that easy, Willy." That hate snarled in him and he lightly slapped against one of Kingpin's bare cheeks, eliciting a roar of pain. "And, to be fair, my mom ain't dead yet. But even if she doesn't make it, you don't get to just die." Miles tapped a finger against the Kingpin's nose, and that hateful part of him shined like a deadly star as Kingpin looked like he wanted to recoil in reflexive fear, but had managed to think better of it. "Nah, see, this… what I've done to you, what I'll add to if she dies, for a guy like you, this has gotta be worse than getting ganked."
Miles looked thoughtfully at the Kingpin's ruined face and imagined a few more handprints' worth of skin removed, as Kingpin clearly did the same.
"A guy like you, who's whole thing is how tough and nasty and untouchable you are, THIS happening to you…" Miles hissed theatrically. "You're done, Willy, and that's gonna be so much worse for a guy like you than dying."
And with that, Miles pulled his finger harmlessly away, that part of him that scared him reveling in Kingpin's flinch at the motion, and clambered out of the whole he'd pile-drove the Kingpin into. As he pulled the top of his Spider-Suit back on, he felt his eyes drift to the splatters of steak and cheesy pasta and baked veggies that been propelled well beyond the hole he'd made of the Kingpin's penthouse suite dinner table. He didn't know how long it had been since the shooting, but he DID know that that one piece of pizza was all he'd eaten since. And he was HUNGRY. Spider-Man Metabolism was bad on normal days, but he'd dragged an assassin up the highest building in the city, fought most of an entire prison, and a big supervillain.
"Would it be as… pathetic and undercutting as I think it'd be if I just…" Miles pointed numbly at the ruins of the Kingpin's dinner. "Cause that mess is looking good right now, and…"
"…You can do better, Spidey…" The one decent, smart Fed offered up, and Miles had to wonder from his hesitation and slightly thoughtful tone if he hadn't only been talking about the food.
To his surprise, a Spider Society portal burst to life in front of him, and he was thankful that the situation of 'Am I desperate enough right now to eat Kingpin's fight table scraps?' did not actually get an answer. Because the only reason a Spider Society portal would open was if there was news. He stepped through, the agent's last words just managing to carry over the whirl of interdimenionsality.
"I gotta get outta this city. Fucking madhouse…"
"Fucking shit, Miles…" Peter B. hissed as he watched Miles' display of frankly uncharacteristic sadism. Miles, Peter had slowly but surely realized, did righteously angry quite well, both as a superheroic attitude and just… in general, somehow. His mind drifted back roughly to the furious speech Miles had given the Band on a rooftop on Earth-42, as he cut half the group deep with their own lies and cowardice and forgetting what it even fucking MEANT to be Spider-Man. Cut them so deep, without a single lie spoken. That righteous, right anger and disappointment... Maybe it was having a cop for a Dad, but Miles could do it like few others Peter had met. Miles gave Daredevil a run for his money.
But this wasn't that. Peter wasn't sure what this was. All he knew was he didn't like the look of it, and could only hope that it was temporary, a visceral if honestly somewhat understandable reaction that would ideally prove a one-time thing. Peter thought about what he'd have done if someone had come for MJ and Aunt May the way Kingpin had come for the Morales', and honestly, Miles might've been handling it better than Peter would've handled similar circumstances in his place, years ago. May was still a sore wound, but the years had given her absence time to heal.
That didn't make Miles' own reaction any less worrisome, though.
And as much as he could see everyone around him, from Jess to Gwen to Jefferson all shared his thoughts on the matter, he was almost relieved when Jess's watch beeped with an update from the medical division.
"Uh-huh. Good, get the kid a portal, we'll be right there."
Miles stepped through, and saw one of the Spider-Docs was already waiting to see him. He'd just finished talking with Dad and…
"Ah, there you are." The Spider-Doc, either not knowing or caring about the awkwardness between Miles and the assembled Spiders, swept him into the huddle outside Rio's unit. She was still unconscious, and the floor was littered with bloody, filthy surgery cloth, but she didn't seem like she was on the verge of dying. A large tank…printer…incubator? Miles looked closer, and he couldn't tell if what looked like a full stomach and intestinal tract were being grown at an artificially accelerated rate, or if they were in the middle of the biological equivalent of being 3D-printed.
It frankly seemed like both.
"So, cloning transplant organs for her is going smooth, but that process isn't exactly swift. Then there's the actual surgery TO transplant, and making sure the organs take and her body doesn't reject them, AND that they're dimensionally stable. All in all, she's looking at maybe at least another week here, probably week and half minimum. But the most important thing is we got her stable, and she's not- Oh, ok…"
Miles and Jefferson interrupted the Spider-Doc with light-speed hugs. One moment they were standing on somewhat opposite ends of a small crowd of Spiders, the next both had their arms around him. Then they both broke away as they realized what they'd both done.
"Thank you." Jefferson said with about as much emotion as he'd ever put into anything. Miles nodded beside him.
"Yeah, just, thank you so much, man. You-" The Spider-Doc raised a hand.
"Hey, don't heap the thanks too high. My job's not done until she's back home safe and healthy, and like I said, that's a ways away yet still… But it's not a problem." The Spider-Doc then turned and wandered off towards the vending machines, as Jefferson and Miles embraced of their own accord, as relief flowed through them.
Peter B. let them hug it out before he cut in.
"So, some pertinent advice I needed to give you remains pertinent, if a tad less so, Miles." He strode up and slapped his hands firmly in Miles' shoulders, commanded his attention. "If you ever choose to listen to my advice as a Spider-Man, a mentor, and maybe a tertiary father figure,"
"Say what?"
"Excuse me?"
"Let it be THIS advice," Peter ignored Miles and Jefferson's surprised, indignant cries. "If a big evil devil guy magically appears to you and offers to save Rio's life guaranteed in exchange for something; DO. NOT. TAKE. THE DEAL." He looked about as serious as Miles had seen him look about anything.
"…Wait, like an actual DEVIL? THE Capital-D Devil? He's a THING?!" Miles started spiraling.
"That's what I was wondering…" Gwen grumbled.
"YES! YES, the ACTUAL DEVIL! Stinks of sulfur, obviously looks evil, probably has a tail, might have a really stupid cape and evein stupider haircut, but YES! If he shows up with offers, tell him to pound sand. I did, and it was the best decision of my life. Cause I've met and seen some Peters who DIDN'T, and if I'd taken his offer… I wouldn't have been able to listen to you, Miles. I wouldn't have been able to get back with MJ, and I wouldn't have been able to have Mayday. I'd have been magically bound, unable to follow through on the 2nd-best advice I've ever gotten from another person." Miles smirked at that.
"So what was the first?" He asked, as if everyone there didn't already know.
"…Oh, you're really gonna make me say it?" Peter B. looked around at the expectant and a little reverent, though also somewhat shit-eating, smiles of all the younger Spiders. "Fine. With great power, there must also come great responsibility." He set a hand back on Miles' shoulder. "We'd almost all forgotten what that was really supposed to mean, Miles. You didn't. And as crazy and scary as things are getting, just… keep that one in mind, yeah?"
Miles gave him a slightly confused look, but nodded.
"Listen, Dad," He turned back to his father. "I think… I think it'd be best if you stay here with Mom, till she's ready to come home. Till… till I can make sure it's safe for you both to come home?" He wasn't sure why or how it came out as a question, but it did. And however reticent he looked at the prospect, Jefferson Morales nodded. "Ok, good, I'll visit, I'll keep you updated, petty cash is in the usual place, yeah?" Jefferson nodded again, and his expression remained, even through the hug, even as Miles opened up a portal back to Earth-1610.
"Miles, hey!" He turned at Gwen's call. "If… if you need anything… anything, you can…" She looked almost as though she regretted speaking up, but also satisfied that she'd said it anyway.
"Yeah." He simply replied before stepping into the portal.
"… So why didn't you bring up the, uh…" Peter B. mimed grasping with his hands.
"I don't know, why didn't you?" Jefferson demanded back.
"Touché."
I'll wait.
So show me why you're strong.
Ignore everybody else.
We're alone now.
Miles pressed his unmasked head against the wall of the building, allowed the song to wash over him, and sighed deeply. It honestly was kinda nice being able to just unmask when things got like this. When he had gotten really tired or emotional, and didn't have to get a high rooftop to unmask and breath and calm himself out of view and completely unobstructed by the mask. He didn't know why this time, but he could guess.
Stress, probably. He'd spent most of the last week and two days tearing through the thugs and criminals and supervillains, trying to make the new rules as clear as he could; you come after Spider-Man, it's business as usual. You come after Morales, things WILL get ugly. The rest of the usual cops were clearly concerned, and clearly running out of leeway they could let him have. Dad had finally come back, Mom had gotten permission that night to finish recovery at home, but he'd seemed… weirdly reticent towards Miles the whole time he'd been handling the situation.
Did Dad know, somehow? He hadn't had a way to communicate with DeWolff and the others across the dimensional gap, but… And honestly, for as much as Miles recognized the necessity of it, he was getting tired of it himself. It felt terrible to see it work in practice. The supervillains and the thugs had gone from annoyed to actually worried when he showed up, and civilians had gone from happy to… tense…
And Miles himself was still… honestly, he was frightened. Frightened of himself, of what he at least proved capable of threatening to do, hoping follow-through wouldn't be necessary. Of how much more he might have to learn about himself. This… anger, this righteous violence, it reminded him of…
He tried to steady his breathing, but the mental spiral was already in full-swing. Miguel O'Hara's furious, self-righteous brutality, as he smashed him against the moon-train, as he clawed at the dimensional cell with nigh-murderous intent. Pictures of Scorpion with her stinger driven though her spine and out her gut, her limp body hung in the center of Time Hex. Miles G.'s obvious glee as he had broken bones, dug into wounds, certainly left a few goons he didn't like or who had annoyed him with lifelong problems from the wounds and pain he inflicted. The rubble fell towards Dad as he sprinted to cover the child. The window of his parents' place exploded, the gunshots peppered the floor, and Mom screamed-
"I said, give me the FUCKING BAG!"
"LET ME GO, YOU ASS-"
BANG! BANG! The screams and shots echoed out of the alley the building he was on was next to, and something in him snapped. A web fired down sent the robber sprawling face-first onto the pavement, and then Miles was upon him. He ripped the man back up and threw him back down the alley, fired more webs to keep him stuck to the ground as he landed hard. He was glad to see the man's victim was apparently unharmed, at least physically.
"Oh, SHIT!" The mugger struggled to pull his arms from under the webs, or to tear them off the pavement. Neither would happen. Miles stalked towards him and stomped into his gun-hand, caved the crumpling, cracking metal and plastic into flesh and muscle, shattered bones. The mugger screamed in pain. "GOD! PLEASE!" Then Miles leaned in and punched, right in the mugger's face. He hit too hard; he felt flesh and bone break beneath his clenched fingers.
And then he punched again. Again. Again. Again. AGAIN.
We're alone now.
We're alone now.
We're alone now.
We're alone now.
We're alone now.
Blood had begun to pool beneath the mugger, begun to fly across the alley as he fist rose and fell.
What was he DOING?!
"Sp-Spider-Man, STOP!" The woman yelled. He didn't. He COULDN'T. He felt the fingers of his fist Spider-stick together as that realization hit him, as he stuck in terrified response to what seemed to be an unstoppable reflex. His Spider-Sense flared, but it seemed… indecisive as to the level of danger. Like it couldn't tell if he was about to trip, or if someone had thrown a train car at-
WHAM!
The back end of a sai smashed into his face and sent him sprawling, sent his headphones, the cheaper travel pair he'd bought, spinning off his ears, before it was yanked back along a steel cable to reconnect to the tip in the hand of-
Oh. SHIT.
Miles scrambled to his feet, and his mind barely had time to process the image that fell out of the darkness above the alley lights. Black and red armor and reinforced silk weave. Gleaming metal sais. Flowing black curly hair and a billowing red scarf. A red Kevlar woven helmet, horns jutting from the top brow.
His Spider-Sense decided as Daredevil swooped down on him: train car.
Is this, tonally, a bit all over the place? Yes, but that was intentional, I swear. This is, in part, a symptom of this story growing well beyond what I'd planned and featuring much more of the Spider-Band than I'd meant it to at first, but it's also coming from a deeper grasp of the characters and what I'm doing with them as it goes on.
Miles is in a BAD place right now, and is carrying SO MUCH, and isn't letting ANYONE actually in to help with it. That's 18 sorts of Not Good, but there's also something else with the Band and Jefferson and Miles.
None of them know how to tell him they know what he's been up to and that they're worried for him. It's the same problem of ATSV rearing its head; all these people (Miles included) either by nature or necessity fundamentally aren't great at communication and being honest about big things in their lives until it's literally the only thing left for them to do to try and repair the relationships that have been broken by the lack of communication and rampant dishonesty. That isn't a way of going through life for them that's going to magically fix itself in just two weeks of solemn contemplation.
So Peter B. warns Miles against Mephisto deals and gives him a slightly backhanded chin-up-speech, and no one else says anything else beyond vague offers of help, because no one knows how to comfortably deal with what's happening, Miles LEAST of all.
Some online conversation I found early in writing the story that really influenced it once we hit the Back-in-Black sections beginning in Chapter 4; it's that stories like Back in Black, however fun they are, don't represent a good, healthy place for characters like Peter and Miles to be in. They're reacting in ways utterly opposite their character because they're hurt and terrified and angry in ways they aren't often made to be. It's that this behavior is maladaptive character regression they ought to have to get out of, not positive development they ought to keep. And once that idea got suggested, boy did it take ROOT. And Retrograde went from 'another Back in Black expy' to 'Let's maybe explore why this is a BAD thing for Miles as a person and a hero, and how he maybe gets out of it and who helps him and how.'
And yes, that IS indeed Elektra Natchios as Daredevil. Where's Matt Murdock? Tune in next chapter! Ooooh, I'm actually so excited for this next bit, you all have no idea!