'The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want and if they can't find them, make them.'

-George Bernard Shaw

Sound of the rain coming down on the transparent rooftop of Spider Society's medical ward at night was an odd moment. Tar- gray and the large cumulonimbus pelting away those small droplets of water. Barely a tapping sound on Acrylic glass became full on pitter-patter that filled the quiet void. Had a random pattern that couldn't make out when they got lost in listening. Mixed with footsteps of someone making rounds to whoever was on a bed just recovering, and checking them over. Who stopped only to look over the chart that hangs at the end of their bed. Making conversation about when the weather will let up through questions about their health. Ended with him telling them about setting up near his personal area where snacks and tea sat. Decaffeinated coffee and fruit juice were the only other options they had to drink. Empty mugs and napkins lay beside to be used to portion everything.

"Please tell me," one spider person asked, "Are confectionaries of homemade like the rumors said?"

"Tupperware container full of homemade empanadas." He assured them.

After parting words, he was the source of a beeping of a heart monitor within the ICU unit. From a private bed belonging to an unconscious Miguel. Any signs of his suit or his Dimensional Travel Watch were nowhere on his bandage clad form. A mechanized IV drip with a potent drug cocktail was slowly being administered. Being a pint or two of artificial spider human blood to replace what was lost.

Was a sight that greeted any one of the Spider Society when he or she entered the space to minorly visit him. Just not one could stay long due to strict orders from a certain physician within the medical ward. He was a rarely seen person since nobody within the society knew what he looked like. Even few have seen him in a meeting that only lasted a second since he never stuck around. He was in and out with anyone before off to treat another injured member of the society. Finding him was like a wild goose chase for someone up for the challenge or search. Some help could be found by a certain digital AI assistant being asked about his location. Currently he walked up to Miguel's side to check to see if he was conscious.

"LAYLA?" He called out to her, "Status."

"Same as before," She appeared beside him, "No improvement whatsoever Dr. Webb."

"What I guessed," He sighed, grabbing the medical chart, "Estúpido."

He went on to mumble about taking the responsibility of keeping the multiverse from collapsing on one's shoulders. Would sooner or later lead a destroyer to one's health on a physical and mental level. Came to fruition when Miguel took a nasty spill during a particular mission. One where a Victorian version of The Answer somehow showed up on Earth-133A. A failed attempt to remove him when trouble was stirred up left Miguel badly injured. Back up was left to handle the situation while Miguel showed no signs of improving health wise.

"Late night?" LAYLA reminded him.

"Mamá Casandra knows I'll be back late," He already knew the outcome, "No need."

"Do it anyway." LAYLA sang.

"Don't." He warned her.

LAYLA knew when to back off when she watched him go through his process, a chart was put back into place at the end of the bed. As he pulled out a flashlight from the inner pocket of his white coat. Which he kept in mind to be careful with opening Miguel's eyelids shining light in them to check for pupil constriction. Which only took place for a few seconds before he turned the flashlight off. He pulled out an oral mirror in exchange for the flash light from the same pocket. He opened Miguel's mouth to use the mirror to check his gums and tongue. Stopping for a second to take in a view of the fangs he only heard about. When he ended up whistling loud enough at the sight as he pulled his hands back. As Miguel started to show signs of consciousness.

"Glad to know you're still with us," Dr. Webb pocketed his mirror, "Mr. O' Hara."

"Cuanto tiempo he estado fuera?" Miguel was a tad groggy.

"Hours," Dr. Webb put away his mirror, "Te dieron el culo."

"I like this one." LAYLA had to agree with him.

"Any one I can call beside LAYLA to see you home?" Dr. Webb removed his gloves.

"No." Migual blinked a few times to clear his vision.

"I urge you to go straight home," Dr. Webb watched Miguel, "You're in no condition to be on your feet."

He then walked to a nearby bin to toss the gloves while pointing out the drugs in Miguel's IV to dull his ache. Being that he had nasty bruises throughout his vital points and most of his bones. Along the lines of a dislocated joint or two that had been popped back in with strained muscles. Not like he wanted to point out where a head contusions or hairline fractures could have happened. He witnessed screaming matches go down between members and Miguel.

"Rest when you can," Dr. Webb felt like Miguel wasn't listening, "And don't push yourself."

"Eso es todo lo que tienes que decir?" Miguel asked slowly sitting up.

He further made his point by allowing the sound of the trash bin closing when he pulled his foot away. To catch Miguel's attention when he found those red eyes bearing down on him with eyebrows creased. Didn't make him flitch like many those emotional with drawn and cold dead eyes. Instead he found himself tilting his head to the side just a little with lowered eyelids. His body relaxing over tensing up with his posture slowly straightening .

"You spend hours upon hours in a dark space watching worlds happen on those screens. Keeping the smallest crack of existence from not getting worse," Dr. Webb bluntly stated, "Makes me think, when was the last time you took a second out of that for yourself?"

"Si no lo hago," Miguel tried to ignore the pain in his body, "Un lío más grande o el peor destino sucedería."

"I'll have a nurse come assist you for discharge." Dr. Webb wasn't going to get into a spat.

More important issue for him was to finally call home and check in. Tell his spider obsessed daughter that he'll be late and get an earful from his mother. Maybe decompress from a job has him worried about a person's welfare. Which didn't show on his face when left Miguel as he held his tongue.

8*8

Dr. Webb forced Miguel to attend mandatory appointments without accepting a SINGLE excuse from him. During that small wait period Miguel review an impressive resume of a spider human with contact information, leading to an answering service and a PO Box in Battery Park City. Email address was to a dummy account somewhere in the cyber space of the dark web. Education section was rich with AP science and math classes all the way to college. Volunteer work with mutant kind as a part of non- profit medical groups and teen mutant run always. Personal achievements were removal of his own Venom glands to create a raw sedative to use on fellow spider humans. Studied the DNA of spider humans down to the very gene that allowed one to produce organic webbing. Who chose to practice medical treatment over being an actual hero. Also has a Degree in psychology and a single father with a teenage daughter.

"He is also related by blood to this reality's Casandra Webb," LAYLA read over information she shared with Migual, "Nothing on his daughter, then this social media account."

"Very active one." Migual browsed through the photos.

Newest one of her showing off how an all night marathon of horror themed movies fueled by junk food and soda. In these cartoon themed lounge wear with her hair in a messy ponytail using a scratchie. What Miguel noticed was the spider theme when he slowly sorted through them. Ones where she smiled with a mouth of popcorn or laughing in self taken pictures. He gazed at the longest before moving into the next looking for some type of clue.

"You're making me rethink my career path," Dr. Webb found Miguel viewing online photos, "Since I'm trying to understand the whole growing interest you have in my daughter."

"She looks like a teenage version of mine." Miguel dismisses the images.

"If I knew having a kid young was an ice breaker," Dr. Webb noticed the photos Miguel was viewing, "I should have prepared better."

"Does she have a name?" LAYLA whispered.

"Gabriella Maria St. James," Dr. Webb shrugged, "My ex named her before abandoning her with me and my mom. Anything else?"

"Your ex's name?" Miguel asked.

"Zarina Ryan," Dr. Webb put down a Tupperware container full of homemade empanadas, "One of many mistakes I've made with my life."

"They can't be anything compared to ones my main man Miguel pulled," LAYLA was already imagining, "We have to compare some time."

"Be glad too," Dr. Webb liked the idea, "If I wasn't getting the death glare from Mr. O'Hara."

"I have my reasons." Miguel's body tensed.

"DUN DUN DUUUUN!" LAYLA wasn't helping.

This was where an odd quietness formed when Miguel shifted toward the sounds of Dr. Webb opened his bag. He pulled a shredded, full face cowl with dried blood stains around eyes and neck area. Laid beside a single picture of his daughter in a silver frame on the nearest flat surface. Feelings that emotional eyes burn into him when he removes his bag to hang up. Didn't seem to phrase Dr. Webb pulled his white coat down from its resting place and pulled it on.

"Your reasons are interesting ones," Dr. Webb adjusted the coat's collar.

"In more ways than one," Miguel just kept watching him, "Far to personal for me."

"Let's start with a cup of coffee and see where we go from there," Offer of a beverage was made, "Deal?"

"Deal," Miguel found himself agreeing to the terms, "I take mine black."

"Have I shared how I … " LAYLA was liking Dr. Webb.

LAYLA entertained Miguel with saved video of him being brought to the medical ward. Dr. Webb turned his back when it played after popping up within seconds. When sounds started Miguel's attention turned toward the footage of him being worked over. Cautious manner that was used to remove his broken watch while he was looked over.

"Here." Dr. Webb lay that damaged Dimensional Travel Watch down beside a steaming mug.

"Want me to try and repair it?" LAYLA inquired.

"Yes," Miguel deemed the watch salvageable, "Pull up logs of my treatment."

"Someone is getting curious." LAYLA started her search.

He looked over the chemical formula of drugs that were in his IV and artificial blood. Both carried a synthetic and lab made structure somehow with natural twist. While in that mixture was a familiar sedative and mixed other drugs that intrigued Miguel. Besides cautious manners used to look him over as his broken watched and suit were removed. Along aside the methods used to patch hm up before placed on supervised bed rest.

"Hungry?" Dr. Web gently peeled off the Tupperware's lid.

He found the scent of apple filling to fill Miguel's nostrils when he inhaled and took in the craftsmanship that went into each one. Way they were neatly arranged inside for anyone to take was a blessing.

"Why a doctor?" Miguel picked up one of the empanadas.

"Hard lesson learned about the life of hero not being for me," Dr. Webb seemed to speak from experience, "Barely walked away with my life."

"Hints the bloody mask?" LAYLA turned attention where it lay.

"Daily reminder of my choice." Dr. Webb sipped from his own mug.

this was where that odd quiet returned with Miguel lifting up the mug after taking hold and stared at the dark surface. Where he clearly inhale a rich scent of Vanilla-like Swiss when he saw a reflection staring back at him. He could admit was his own without much thought since his late daughter was on his mind.

"If I wanted to meet your daughter?" Miguel took a single bite.

"Ask Peter B about attending dinner with his family," Dr. Webb laughed over the memory, "We kinda hit it off by comparing pictures of our daughters."

"A pleasant experience." Miguel recalled the headache inducing moment.

The rest of the moment between them was mostly Miguel interrogating Dr. Webb mostly about his past. Which didn't really seem to bother him much when atmosphere started to chill as minutes passed. Since stayed in the form of a chill conversation with out much hostility taking place.