A/N: So quick disclaimer- you do not need to read Spider-Lily to understand this story. This takes place after Beyond the Spiderverse and Spider-Lily, continuity wise. I'm actually writing it alongside this story, so read if you want but you don't have to to enjoy this story.

Issue #2 – The Spider and the Butterfly

(Earth-1280B) Indianapolis, 2022 A.D.

Miguel stepped out of the portal, landing somewhere in an alley. He did not recognize these buildings. The skyline was unfamiliar, lacking the sheer heights and creative architecture and variation between them that Nueva York had. It was a city but lacked the familiar landmarks that all New York Cities held. The buildings were too small, too short. Wilder looking landscapes like Mumbattan or the Kingdom of York were foreign in their stylistic differences, but you could usually find one piece of familiarity in an otherwise strange world. Here, he couldn't find one. He scanned his surroundings for a landmark but only succeeded in spotting a large brick and mortar building in the distance, one he did not recognize. Most likely it was some sort of sports colosseum, judging from the large neon words 'Lucas Oil Stadium' on the front entrance. His world no longer had widespread organized sport leagues, since there were very few places left to challenge others in a bit of friendly competition, let alone enough money to fund a team, but there were plenty of new local leagues done virtually or in parks for entertainment purposes.

Miguel thought to all the fútbol games he used to watch as a child when his father- stepfather, he chided himself -had passed out drunk on the couch and left the telescreen on. The sound of parents shouting and the smell of orange peels suddenly engulfed him as memories flooded back to him all at once.

Gabriella. Gabriella playing soccer. Gabriella stealing his vanilla bean ice cream that she had begged him to buy, having already finished her scoop of rocky road. Gabriella being tucked into bed after kicking off most of her blankets in her sleep. Gabriella waking up for school, only for parts the city skyline to alter and disappear in an instant. Panic on her face as the neighbors crammed themselves onto the rickety fire escapes like sardines. Shock as Miguel transformed into his Spider-Man suit in front of her for the first time and hastily scooped her up into his arms, web-swinging them out the window. Gabriella's yelp as the building he latched onto with his electronic webs disappeared in a mess of distorted pixels- she whimpered but never screamed, his brave little girl -and they fell into the crowd. Gabriella's pleas, her fingernails clinging desperately to his chest that he could still feel the faint traces of scratches like scars as absolute uncontrolled chaos erupted around them.

Dad! Dad, NO-!

Miguel chest started to ache before he forcefully pushed down the memories and redirected the bittersweet melancholy that had tainted the memory of his daughter, coloring her and his love for her in sorrow and guilt and rage, turning them back into determination towards the mission. He did this for her, after all, his little girl- because shock it, she was his little girl! He did this so that no one would ever have to lose anyone else like that ever again. There would always be loss if it was a canon event, but the loss of a whole universe was unfeasible, unforgivable. A flicker of irritation towards Miles and anomalies and the reckless rogue spiders just like him reignited the anger inside him, spreading and threatening to break his normally cold exterior. He had to remain in control.

"LYLA, scan this place, please."

"S-Scanning." LYLA's image flickered above his gizmo, not even having to ask for what. "One anomaly detected."

"Where and when am I, exactly?"

"Indianapolis, Indiana, in the year 2022." Well, that certainly explained it. The technology was much more primitive than his Earth because it was eighty years into the past. Miguel listened as the distant clatter of a train running across the track hauling coal to its many factories. Indianapolis… He didn't know the city, but he recognized the state name in its title from his high school history class. By the 22nd century, most of the world had been decimated by war, leaving many countries devastated and map-lines redrawn. California had fallen into the sea from massive earthquakes and anti-mutant terrorist groups, and floods had almost completely erased places of low sea levels like Florida and Hawaii. Still, they had covered all fifty states in their country's history lessons. Places like this were a footnote in his US History books, a bookmark in time in an otherwise tremulous century. While he hadn't ventured much outside of Nueva York, Miguel knew there were miles of badlands that stretched across what used to be the Midwest. There was no point in leaving in his city. Not unless he had a death wish. Xina had left, just like all of them had left him. She was probably dead too, the last time he had seen her being some outpost outside of Nueva York heading for the miles of badlands for parts unknown, weighed down by her own guilt of Dana's death. Dana… Miguel twinged at the faint memory of his fiancée.

He needed to get out of here as soon as possible. This place was poison to him. Everything was too bright and warm and full of color and life. He could feel the humidity seep through his suit, gradually sapping him of all his strength. All he wanted was to go back to his lab and the mission, back to the cold and the dark and the order of his world and forget, but he wanted to catch the spiders more. A furious headache began building between his temples at the brightness of the sun on the pavement and the stickiness of the humidity that felt oppressive and all consuming. He retreated to the shadows under a bridge. A homeless man lay sleeping underneath the bridge on a flatten cardboard box and a pile of shopping bags stuff with what was probably his belongings. The underground was dank with mold and the smell of stale piss, but it reminded him of home, of the dark underbelly of his city that the shining towers of mega-corporations built their livelihoods upon.

But here was a city eighty years prior, small but thriving, unaffected by the horrors that could be, and he was going to keep it that way. Starting with capturing those rogue spiders by tracking down that anomaly.

"Keep out of sight unless I say otherwise," Miguel ordered, causing LYLA to vanish in an instant. He wasn't sure if this world even had AI tech, let alone ones that appeared as holograms. "Any impending canon events?"

LYLA's voice emitted from his gizmo, the dimensional watch flashing with her voice cadences. "Scan-n-ning… No canon events d-detected." Miguel's scowl deepened at the wording. Surely, she meant that there was no canon event disruption, not that there was no canon events at all. Perhaps her programming was more messed up than he thought. One less thing to worry about. Now he had to focus on his mission.

Miguel flexed his claws like a cat's in anticipation. He didn't feel any weakness nor loss of his strength, so his theories about Earth-1280's twin appeared to be true. He considered changing into something to blend into the background, his civilian look more of a costume than his actual suit, thinking he might draw too much attention to himself in his costume but hesitated when he watched two people walking by in medieval armor and wild hair color.

The fashion in the 21st century is so strange… he thought to himself, watching as he spotted more people carrying bags and goods in the shopping district. Banners of Gen Con 2022 hung on light fixtures and street lamps as well as decorated the large tote bags passerby shoppers. Perhaps there was some event going on. He wished he had done more research on the universe before jumping headlong into it, but the anomaly and the potential location of a rogue spider gave him some vindication for his impulsive decision, especially when he spotted two figures wearing red and black jumpsuits.

Miguel's pulse quickened at the sight of Peter and Miles as they strode across the crosswalk in full costume a block over from where he was standing. He readied himself, crouching for cover to observe the pair walk towards a White Castle restaurant, but stopped when he saw Peter take off his mask, unzipping it from the back, revealing… not Peter Parker. For one thing, his suit did not work like that. Having met him a few times due to time travel shenanigans, Miguel knew that Peter B's suit was removable in pieces rather than a single, zip-up onesie. Also, he was not Asian. Fake Peter looked towards the other Spider-Man next to him and Miguel saw that he was actually a she as the Fake Miles undid her own mask, wiping the sweat from her brow before they both stepped inside the establishment. He considered for a moment, but then he saw other Spider-Mans walking in the distance. Walking. Not swinging.

So there was good news, bad news. The good news was that he could still wear his suit without having to worry about debating on what kind of clothes he wore without accidentally sticking out like a sore thumb (he could've had LYLA put something together, but the extent of the damage to her core processor was still unknown, and he'd rather not risk losing his suit all together in the middle of a fight, especially in public). The bad news was that these weren't the spiders he was looking for. They took off their masks with such abandon, acted much too casual to actually be Spider-Men. Then Miguel had to remind himself that this universe didn't have a Spider-Man. He reprimanded himself for forgetting this fact for the next several minutes, his eagerness to catch the traitors starting to get the better of him. He watched as he saw a few more costumed folks walk by- a steampunk Mad Hatter, a wolf mascot of some kind, a man in a black and grey costume with a bat insignia on his chest. There weren't just strange fashion choices. They were costumes. They were costumes because this world didn't have superheroes, and that made the rogue spider people and the anomaly all the more dangerous.

Miguel sighed. This might be harder than he'd thought. After debating whether which option would offer him the most stealth, finally he compromised by just removing his mask, leaving his spider suit to appear as some fancy costume. How ironic, considering his first Spider-Man suit had been, in fact, a costume he had worn for Dia de los Muertos. Now it felt more like a second skin than his old civvies.

Miguel launched a few of his spider-cameras from his watch, aiming for the traffic cameras and corners of buildings and bridges before he began patrolling the streets on foot, not wanting to draw too much attention by web-swinging in the air, sticking to the shadows as much as he possibly could. He expected to attract attention with his suit, but other than the occasional look most people gave a man of his size and intimidation, people appeared unbothered by his appearance. He started making his way towards where the anomaly's signal was leading him. He stopped at a crosswalk under a bridge and felt himself grow impatient at the orange STOP hand on the crosswalk light. He could have just held up his arm and swung over the traffic with his suit's built-in electro-webs, but that would mean breaking cover, and he wasn't prepared to do that, not when he was so close to finally catching the traitors.

He glared at the crosswalk light, his gaze hotter than the humidity sticking to the back of his neck. It was much too bright for him. He'd wished he had kept his mask on or at least had his pair of designer sunglasses to keep the sun out of his eyes. His hand pushed back the flattened locks of his hair, already starting to feel the sweat dripping down his forehead and neck. The rest of his body was insulated as the natural cooling mechanisms inside his suit kicked on, regulating his body temperature, but his face was feeling the full force of the summer heat even if he was shaded by the bridge.

A sudden burst of laughter echoed between the rafters, the cackle startling him to attention from his mental feud against the traffic light. He glanced down to see it had come from the young woman standing next to him staring down at the device in her hands. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties and wore a plain white polo t-shirt and black leggings. The only color on her was around her neck, the wires of her earphones connecting to her phone in a long, woven strand of pink, yellow, and green embroidery. Below it sat a black lanyard with too many garish pins on it, and a badge at the end of it that read 'Gen Con 4-Day Pass' on the front with a neon green ribbon underneath that read 'She/Hers,' something he had seen other people wearing around their necks. It jingled around her neck as her hand went to her mouth, as if to stifle the laugh she had unknowingly let out. Aware she had an audience to her social faux pas, her eyes flicked to meet his gaze. Miguel averted his eyes forward, focusing back on his intense staring contest with the traffic light, not wanting to engage with the civilian.

"…Wow, you're tall." Miguel briefly snapped out of his haze to see the young woman was addressing him now. He kept his eyes forward, but the woman continued unbidden. "Sorry, I just don't meet a lot of guys who are taller than me." Miguel kept his interest minimal but couldn't help scrutinizing the woman. True, she was probably taller than most women he had seen, but her height brought her to about right underneath his chin, which meant she couldn't be any higher than six foot or so. She was large, her curves and pear-shaped, but he had much more mass on her than she did. He probably could dwarf. He frowned at that errant thought but did not engage with her. Recognizing this, her gaze shyly flicked away from him, instead choosing to watch a monarch butterfly flutter down from the rafters of the bridge with a startled smile. "First one of the season…" she mused aloud, possibly to herself or for more idle small talk, her fingers twisting one of the earbuds between her fingers. "It's a shame they're endangered now. You used to see so many of them in August..."

Miguel made no motion to stare at the woman, only answering with his silence and maybe a grunt of acknowledgement. It was hard to tell. Sometimes when he was so focused on a task, his brain would go on autopilot, and he would end up saying a bunch of things he didn't mean involuntarily from sheer reflex. Right now, he was just trying to tune the woman out and wait for the light to turn green. Still, her voice was loud, able to pierce through the veil of static.

"I like your cosplay, by the way. Gives me Tron: Legacy vibes. What Spider-Man are you supposed to be?" That got Miguel's attention. His eyes flicked back to hers, his head turning a few subtle degrees to the right. "Let me guess… it's Spider-Man Unlimited? No, wait, it's your Spidersona, isn't it?"

Miguel blinked, confusion breaking his apathetic stare. "My what?"

"Did I get it wrong? Was it supposed to be one of the PS4 suit skins? I'm sorry. There's so many Spider-Man suits and characters out there, it's hard to keep track."

Miguel mentally chuckled humorlessly. She did not know the half of it.

"Something like that."

"I mean, it makes total sense. You totally have the body of a superhero. You're built like a line-backer. You could probably play for the Colts." His brow furrowed. Was she trying to insinuate something, or did she know more about him than she was letting on? No, that couldn't be it. Judging from what she said, he assumed she was referring to some sort of sports team. "I hope you don't mind but, could I take a picture of you?"

"No," was Miguel's immediate response, not even giving her a second glance.

The woman took an unsteady step back, as if she was unprepared for the sudden rejection and lowered her device- a cellphone, Miguel remembered, recalling Peter B had one and constantly asked to take 'selfies' of him and his daughter Mayday. Archaic technology. "Oh… umm okay. Sorry I asked. It's just a really cool cosplay, but I understand. Internet privacy and all that." They stood in silence for a few seconds, the woman fiddling with her necklace before she recovered. "…how long did it take you to make?"

"A really long time." Actually, it only took him less than a week to design, though it took LYLA only seconds to 3D print it, but this woman didn't need to know that. If anything, he just wanted to go back to his mission and focus, but she wouldn't let up.

"What, like four or five months?"

Miguel's jaw clenched. Did this woman ever shut up? Did she not realize he didn't want to be talking to her right now? Why was she still trying to keep making small talk with him? Just wanting the conversation to be over, he muttered, "sure," with barely contained irritation.

Finally, the light turned green and Miguel could not move fast enough across the crosswalk, trying to put as much distance between him and the girl. Before he could even set foot onto the crosswalk, he heard the girl yell, "STOP!" and felt a sudden force yank him back away from the street where he had just narrowly avoided a car that had decided to turn right on red, not aware that there were pedestrians trying to cross at the same time.

Fingers grasped onto the small back, clawed into the material of his suit before they released.

The impatient driver blared their horn at them before sharply veering around them, speeding up rather than slowing down as they whipped down the street. "Asshole…" the woman muttered before giving the driver of the white Toyota the finger when he was far enough away from them not to notice. "You okay?"

Sometimes Miguel hated not having a Spider-Sense. It was one of the major differences between him and the other spiders, the one thing he was jealous about; that and having the effortless ability to stick to walls. If he had one, he could have prevented more injuries and casualties and wouldn't have to expend longer hours at the gym to make sure his reaction time and reflexes were sharp. Not having it had made him less reliant on a paranormal ability, but that didn't appear to be working in his favor today when he had been so distracted. He'd been hit by way worse and much harder. Still, he owed this woman his life, even if the car probably wouldn't have killed him.

Puzzled, he muttered, "…Yeah …thanks," unable to take the full sarcasm out of his voice even though he was anything but.

"I didn't ruin your costume, did I? I'm sorry!"

Miguel scrutinized the woman, puzzled by her as she checked him over for injuries. Why was she apologizing for his suit? More importantly, how had she knocked him off his feet? He was 310lbs on a good day. Either he was losing it or this woman was a lot stronger than she looked. Then again, he had been pretty distracted. Even the heaviest stone could be moved if the balance beneath it had shifted. Still though, he had felt the sensation of being yanked back before he felt her fingers. Had he been grabbed by something else, something more…?

"Don't move." He arched an eyebrow at her, confused. He wasn't injured. She didn't need to check him for injuries. He was positive his cover hadn't been blown. Then she pointed behind him. "There's a butterfly on your shoulder." He looked over his shoulder and saw a flicker of orange sitting on the otherwise blue and red of his costume. He moved his hand to brush the creature off but found his hand quickly blocked by the strong fingers that had clasped the back of his suit earlier.

"Wait, don't touch it! They're endangered!"

"It's just a butterfly."

"You don't need to kill it. Besides, haven't you ever heard of the butterfly effect? A single bat of a butterfly's wings can cause a tornado. It's bad karma to kill a butterfly. What did it ever do to you?"

Miguel had in fact heard of the butterfly effect. It had been one of the things he studied rigorously after the para-science boys downstairs at Alchemax started dabbling in time travel. It didn't work quite like people thought, involving a lot more variability, formulas, and deep study of chaos theory to fully comprehend, but it wasn't something to just wave off. He had made that mistake before when he had let people like Tyler Stone and Walker Sloan try and play dice with the universe and spread their corruption to other timelines. Like Miguel didn't have enough problems to deal with without adding world ending paradoxes to the mix.

"I wasn't going to kill it. I was just going to brush it off." Still, he pulled back his hand and watched as the woman reached up to touch his shoulder. He balked at the sudden action, not liking the sudden intrusion on his personal space, before he realized she was reaching out for the butterfly. He didn't relax, not fully, but he was much less tightly wound as he shifted his posture a bit so she wouldn't have to stand on her tiptoes to reach him. She did it anyways, placing a hand on his bicep to steady herself before moving her other one towards the insect. The touch almost burned him, feeling too foreign and strange. Most people who touched him were trying to hurt him. He couldn't even remember the last time someone had touched him without trying to hurt him. Mayday was the exception, occasionally using him as her own personal jungle-gym when she managed to get away from her father, but she was rough and energetic and her interactions with him produced a different kind of pain, one that couldn't be felt externally. This touch was gentle and soft, so much so that if not for the pressure on his arm for balance, he could barely feel it through his costume, nothing more than a faint tickle. Like a butterfly's.

It made him feel uncomfortable, his muscles locking firmly in place. The close proximity caused him to notice the olivine butterfly pendant hanging from her neck, hidden by the black lanyard and its tacky baubles. No wonder she had an affinity for the creature. It clinked against her pins as she leaned into him. "You gotta be gentle..." the woman cooed, her voice a soft hum in his ear as she carefully cupped her olive-toned hands around the butterfly, nudging it cautiously with her fingertips until it crawled onto her hand. "You know what they also say about butterflies. If one lands on you, you'll get good luck." She said, capturing it with her other palm. "You're a lucky guy, Spider-Man, being chosen by the hands of fate." She smiled and lifted up her cupped hands to his face, chuckling at her own bad joke.

It was official. This had to be the strangest woman he had ever met. Once she lowered her hands, the brunette opened them up and watched at the butterfly took off. "There. Now you'll have good luck today and avoided bad karma at the same time."

Miguel scoffed. What luck? Luck had nothing to do with his life. Luck was just a higher probability of something going right than wrong based on controlled and uncontrollable variables. It didn't have any of the mystical attachments of magic and religion. That was just pseudo-science practiced by the naïve dreamers. The butterfly flitted for a moment, gliding towards the newly changed crosswalk sign, both of them having missed their cue to cross during the chaos of nearly being hit by a car. Miguel's shoulders sank as he blew out a breath. Some luck.

"You look a bit out of it. Here. You can have my water." Without even asking permission, the woman had already shifted and produced a plastic water bottle from her small, black backpack and thrust it into his hand.

"No, I don't-"

"Oh, come on, you can take it. I haven't drunk from it, and I can always get more from the convention hall when I got to work. Besides, you gotta stay hydrated in that thing. Costumes like that dehydrate you like crazy on days like this."

Unable to formulate another way to refuse, Miguel took the bottle and muttered a soft "thanks…"

The woman glanced at her watch and frowned. "Aww shit, I'm going to be late… Well, have a good con!" she waved with a hurried smile before taking her leave, deciding to cross the street while it was orange anyways, jingling as she jogged like a cat with a bell. As if it was waiting for her, the crosswalk light turned to a solid white 'Walk' signal, leaving a baffled Miguel behind in her wake.

Miguel followed in step after her, though changed direction once he reached the street corner, choosing to in a direction adjacent to hers, walking towards the shadows of side-streets and valet parking. He thought her inherent strangeness and the odd word choice she used. 'Have a nice con.' Ironic, considering what he was here to con a few rogue Spider-Men out of hiding with the threat of an anomaly. He looked down at the bottle of water, perplexed by the label. Where he was from, water didn't have brands, but here was a world that capitalized on selling different kinds of water for the sake of money. It sickened him but he took a swig anyways. Maybe he had been feeling a bit out of it. It certainly explained his inability to focus. He drank until it almost half gone before glancing back at his watch.

The signal was a bit inconclusive, flickering off and on the radar on his watch. He wasn't sure if it was due to the nature of the anomaly or LYLA's bugs, but it was merely a bump in the road for him. They had underestimated him by thinking they could hide from him in their spider suits and costumes and not be detected by the general public, but Miguel knew better. There was nothing more enticing to a Spider-Man than a supervillain in the middle of wreaking havoc. Sooner or later, they had to come out, and when they did, he would be there waiting for them.