Miles stirred with a sharp inhale, opening his eyes to be greeted by the cold concrete ground.
He was on his knees, arms outstretched and restrained behind himself - the position uncomfortable and straining the joints of his shoulder. But he wasn't in pain. He hadn't been hurt while unconscious.
There was a mask over his nose and mouth, a tube running from its tip into the floor. That… that only meant bad things.
Carefully keeping his breathing level, refusing to sink into his rising panic, he listened instead to his softly murmuring spider-sense.
A long foyer stretched before him, leading up to a plush throne. On the wall was fancy art interspersed with marble statues. It spoke of obscene wealth.
Shuddering, Miles looked back down at the ground. He wouldn't survive if he panicked. He had to be stronger than that.
Shifting in the bonds, they clinked. Metal chains, then. The last time he had been tied down like this had been by Mysterio. But he had grown stronger - physically and mentally - since then.
Straining forward, putting his all into it and ignoring how it made his shoulders ache, he fought the chains holding him down. They creaked and groaned, weakening under the strength Miles pushed himself forward with. He struggled for a better grip on the floor, barely making it onto his feet.
His spider-sense whined a split second before he was kicked in the stomach, collapsing back down onto his knees with pained puffs for breath.
The tapping of their heels towards the throne had dread pooling in his gut, the sound ending as they sat down.
If he could only make one guess, he would guess that it was the boss everyone had been working for. The one from overseas.
He looked up. Sitting on the throne was someone he didn't recognize. He first noticed her gold mask; only her gray eyes were cut out and exposed. Ebony hair flowed down her shoulders, complimenting her black and white suit.
Miles had no idea who she was, but he knew she was a threat. He didn't need his spider-sense to tell him that.
He leveled his expression, falling back into something calm and neutral. Having no secret identity had forced him to learn to control his facial expressions, to close the open book he had been. He was glad for that practice as he watched her, and she watched him.
Miles glanced around the room, breaking eye contact first. There were no windows, no avenues of escape he could see. He was at her mercy. That itched at him.
"Miles Morales," she greeted him, returning his attention to her. She leaned on the armrest, a hand perched under her chin. "I must congratulate you. I had thought my competition quite dull, but you really do make it difficult for anyone to run New York."
Flexing his hands in their bonds, Miles stamped down memories of a past conversation. One with Wilson Fisk, the first Kingpin Miles had taken on and the first to openly mock him with his own name. The whispers of the past wrapped around his throat, choking him of the calm he had carefully tied himself down with.
Miles forced himself to keep breathing, to remain in the present. "Who are you?" he asked.
"You can call me Madame Masque, little spider," she said, leaning forward. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Narrowing his eyes, Miles cut to the chase. "What do you want with me?"
"How do you know I want anything from you, child?" she asked, fond amusement coloring her voice.
"You could have killed me as soon as you knocked me out," he said, matter-of-fact. "And you said it yourself - I am a thorn in the side of any wanna-be Kingpin. I've stopped several already in my short career. It would be easier to kill me and get it over with. So, what do you want with me?"
She crossed her legs, lounging back into the chair. "I've studied you, Miles Morales. I know everything about you, every decision you have ever made. Including your deal with Wilson Fisk."
Miles's breath hitched before he could smother his reaction. "What deal?" he asked anyway.
Madame Masque laughed. The sound was soft but echoed around the room. "Don't play dumb, dear. I don't like liars. You made a deal with Wilson Fisk - he would protect your family from harm while you confronted his rival, Leland Owlsley."
"Why does that matter?" Miles bit out. "That happened over a year ago."
"Oh, little spider. Think. I know you're smart." She tilted her head. "Obviously, I want to offer you a similar deal. As you said, why else would I keep you alive?"
Miles grit his teeth. "You really think I would work for you?"
She leaned forward, uncrossing her legs. "I would carefully consider this, Miles Morales. Have I not proven how vast my resources are? I know everything about you, and you know nothing about me."
That was a threat. Miles didn't bother announcing it as such.
"My last deal ended with me in a body bag in the Hudson, and my family almost killed," Miles spat. "I'm not stupid enough to make a deal with the devil twice."
"Ah, but you're thinking too short term," she said, unbothered by Miles's anger. "Wilson Fisk wanted your services to suppress a rival. I have none, thanks to your efforts. I want you as a permanent contractor, one that will protect New York - but will look the other way at my discretion. Your family would be protected from harm, and your pockets padded."
Miles stared at her. "You want me to be your goon?"
"There are nicer ways of saying it, but I suppose that is what I'm asking, yes." She gestured at Miles. "I would take caution to remember the position you're currently in."
A laugh bubbled up before he could stamp it down, hanging his head as it shook him. When he had a handle on it, he finally looked back up at her, glaring her down. It would have had anyone else shrinking away. "I would rather die than work for someone like you!"
She hummed, the sound light. "Is that so?"
"Let me lay it out," Miles snarled. "I will never work for you. Not ever. So, just kill me. Kill me and get this over with. If you kill me, why would you waste your resources killing my family? They're not a threat to you. I am. If you leave me alive and murder them, I will make it my life's mission to make you pay. I almost killed Wilson Fisk, or did you forget that detail?"
He had thought about what he would have done differently. It was a frequent thing he turned over in his head, one that he hadn't needed Peter's help to reexamine.
Her deal was the easiest to refute. Either she took Miles out of the picture, or she didn't. But he would never, ever betray his morals and work for the other side.
"So if you're going to kill me," Miles said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do it. Because if you fail, you'd better hope you can escape my webs."
Madame Masque hummed, tapping her chin. "Well, I suppose it was worth a try. I want you to remember this conversation, Miles Morales, because I offered you an alternative. Instead, I have to make an example out of you."
She revealed a button she had hidden in a pocket. His spider-sense flared as smoke filled the mask on his face, the familiar bug spray smell filling his senses.
Miles glared at her until he no longer could - his eyes rolling back and his limbs going slack. Mercilessly, he was dragged into unconsciousness.
"Stand by everyone at home! Once the incy-wincy sleepy spider has woken up, we'll get right back on schedule," a familiar female voice boomed, her voice drilling into Miles's skull.
He didn't dare move. Terror gripped his throat as his senses came back into focus.
He was face down, blaring overhead lights warming his back, with no mask on - neither of the fabric nor oxygen variety. No webshooters, but nothing to cover up his spinnerets. Nothing was tying him down or restricting his movements. That, out of everything, scared him the most.
His spider-sense was on high alert, whining in his ear about the threat he would face.
Blinking his eyes open, to the delighted commentary of Screwball, he sat up to find out what was happening.
In front of him, he spotted several villains casually lounging out in the plush rows of seats several meters above the pit he was in. When he swiveled his head, he spotted more dotted around, surrounding him on all sides. Eleven in all.
Molten Man, Screwball, Bullseye, Vulture, Hobgoblin, Scorpion, Rhino, Taskmaster, Kraven, Shocker, and Electro. His eyes darted from one to the next, unnerved by how they grinned at him like he was fresh meat.
Swallowing, his mouth now as dry as a desert, he searched for an escape route - for any openings. The stadium-sized room had no doors he could see, no obvious entry or exit points. The roof was filled with massive stadium lights, blanketing the room, leaving no shadows behind. There were no obvious weak points.
His eyes caught on a puddle of blood, fresh - still drying, off to the side. The stone in his stomach grew heavier.
Screwball, a microphone in her hand, threw one hand out. "Hi, Miles! Welcome to the Death Match!"
".. Death Match?" Miles echoed as he stood up.
"Right! So for those at home just joining us, and Miles here, let me explain what's happening," Screwball said, lounging back. "Spider-Man here will face all our wonderful guest stars until he dies! There is no escape! There is no winning! Daredevil, our first contender, went down with quite the fight. And then, after you, we'll kill Peter, too!"
"What?" Miles whispered, his chest aching. Louder, he yelled. "What do you mean? What did you do to Daredevil?! Is he dead?!"
"You don't have to worry about that, Miles. You should be way more worried about yourself!" Screwball declared. To the waiting villains, she asked, "Alright, Sinister Twelve, who wants to go first?"
"There's only eleven of you," Miles blurted. "Can you not even count?"
"That's what you think!" Screwball sing-songed, her glee obvious. "Now, I think Kraven should go first. After all, he did reveal your identity. It's only fitting!"
Miles locked eyes with Kraven as he got up, stretching. He picked up a spear, casually twirling it in his hands. "Ah, Miles Morales. I have looked forward to our rematch."
"Yeah, I don't care," Miles dismissed, taking several steps back.
Kraven's eyes narrowed, and he snarled. He hefted the spear at Miles, who flipped back to avoid it, landing in a crouch. Kraven vaulted himself over the guard rails and into the main ring, flicking a knife out of a holster at the same moment.
Miles distinctly felt like a gladiator - and that was what this was. Spilling blood for a faceless audience, morbidly fascinated by the performance put on for their entertainment.
Madame Masque had said she would make an example out of him. He just didn't think his death would turn out like this.
Maskless, on live TV, on his own.
If this was how he was going to die, he was going to fight dirty, he was going to make them work for his death. He hadn't survived as Spider-Man for two years by taking blows lying down.
Miles sidestepped a throwing knife, then another. "Come on, Kraven, let's go," he taunted, beckoning him closer. He squared his hips, relaxing into a fighter's stance. "You'll be a great warm-up round."
"I am no one's warm-up!" Kraven bellowed.
Miles ducked under his first swing, his second, and then punched him in the stomach. He sailed backward, crashing into the paneled walls. "Yeah, you kind of are."
A flash of movement at the corner of his eyes was all the warning he got, narrowly missing a ball of hot lava - it skimming across his suit. Miles skittered back as Molten Man joined in on the fun, trying to grab Miles and burn him.
Webbing him in the face, he ducked to the floor and kicked his legs out from under him. With a shout, he went down. Miles rapidly backed up - and right into Kraven's arms, who grabbed him in a chokehold.
Struggling, he latched onto Kraven's arm, and venom shocked him. He stiffened in Miles's grip, who kept a hold on him just as Molten Man returned to attack. Using him as a shield, he hoisted him at Molten Man, both going down with matching shouts of pain.
He webbed them down under several layers, trapping the two of them together to Kraven's agonized scream - Molten Man's skin burning him. His organic webs were weaker than the inorganic ones; they wouldn't hold them for long, but he just needed time to take a breath.
They weren't going to let him take one.
Miles barely dived out of the way of Vulture's talons, rolling and turning to face the buzzard. Thwipping a web at him, he redirected his swoop into the seats, sending him straight at Screwball - who screamed in terror.
He didn't get a chance to watch them crash into each other, only hearing it, as Kraven attacked again. It was sloppier, one hand slashing his dagger in wide arcs while the other cradled his burned costume.
Miles ducked under another swing before he webbed his face, tugging him down to knee him. The blow sent him staggering. Pushing his advantage, he cracked him across the cheek, then again, uppercutting him.
The punch was so hard it lifted him off the ground. Miles finished him with a tornado roundhouse kick to the chest, sending Kraven crashing into the stadium seats. One down.
Panting, Miles's spider-sense near constantly ringing in his ears, he glared up at Screwball. She had managed to detangle herself from Vulture, who perched nearby, ready to take another turn. "All this just for me? I'm flattered."
"You wish!" Screwball crowed. "Peter is up next, just as soon as you're dead."
"Not if you never kill me," Miles corrected, subtly spinning a ball of web in his hands. "Really, you're all just chicken for taking us on one by one."
Screwball motioned to someone behind Miles, and Miles tilted his head enough to keep her in his peripheral. "Oh, you will die. The whole world will watch you die! Do you know how many people are tuning in?"
"I don't want to know-"
"Eight million and counting! Your face is on every billboard in Times Square! Aren't you famous?" Screwball cackled in delight, propping her feet up on the seat in front of her. "Now, enough talking - that's no way to get views."
"As you wish," Miles muttered, whirling around to face Molten Man, who had been sneaking up behind him. Hurling his thick ball of webs at him, it exploded in his face, tethering him down to the ground. It wouldn't stop him, but it would slow him down as he burned through it.
A skittering noise was his warning to duck. Reaching up to grab Scorpion's tail, he yanked it forward, using it as leverage to kick back and into his chest. Scorpion barely budged, though, the start of a laugh on his lips before Miles punched him in the face.
Flipping back, his spider-sense blared too late. Sharp claws dug into his shoulders. Vulture.
Miles grabbed his taloned legs, choking through a cry of pain as he was deposited straight into Rhino's waiting hand. He was slammed down, his body cratering the ground, barely avoiding his foot stomping down by rolling out of range.
Miles scrambled to his feet, barely making it upright in time to catch Rhino's fist punching down, bracing himself against the full weight of the man.
His spider-sense went haywire a split second before pain ripped through his left arm, buckling it. A bullet had grazed his bicep. Rhino pressed the advantage, his fist slamming into Miles's chest and sending him flying backward.
Crashing into the ground with a roll, he forced himself upright in time to jump out of the way of Scorpion's swinging stinger.
Narrowing his eyes, he came to a sudden, startling realization about Scorpion as he grabbed his tail at its next attack. Ignoring the pain coursing through his arms, he dug his feet into the ground and hurled Scorpion over his head and at Rhino.
They crashed into each other, going down like bowling pins.
Scorpion's entire lower half was cybernetic. It needed electricity to keep going.
He had no chance to act on his idea. Molten Man grabbed his left arm, trying to drag him towards him, burning straight through his suit and cauterizing his bullet wound in one agonizing move. Miles whirled on him, a scream on his lip, punching him as hard as he could with his right.
Molten Man's head hit the ground with an audible thump. He righted himself, but Miles followed it up with another punch, then another, before Molten Man's hands came up to protect himself. Miles kicked him instead, so hard it sent him straight at Rhino - who batted him away like a soft toy.
Miles backed up, heaving for breath through the agony of his arm.
"Little spider is scared," Rhino taunted, each lumbering step shaking the ground.
"No," Miles spat, "just in pain."
Thwipping a web at his face, he pulled himself forward, sliding under Rhino's legs. With a sharp yank, his head smacked into the ground, much to the man's cry of shock.
There wasn't time to savor his small victory. Scorpion was on him. Miles backflipped over his tail, narrowly skimming over it as it tried to whip him. Miles punched his stomach, staggering him back.
Spider-sense blaring, he dodged a bullet, courtesy of Bullseye, but it distracted him enough for Scorpion's stinger to wrap around him, squeezing as it lifted him into the air.
"Last words, spider?" Scorpion asked, bloody teeth smiling.
"I have those," Miles choked out, rapidly losing air. He reached up, palms resting on the tail, absorbing the electricity into himself. "But not for you."
Scorpion, shocked, tried to let him go, but it was too late. His legs gave out, clattering to the ground. Miles's feet on the ground again, he dove out of the way of yet another bullet - but not fast enough, it skimming his thigh.
The pain had him staggering in his roll, collapsing to the ground.
Miles panted, on his knees, head down, trying to gather his wits.
He couldn't let them win. He couldn't let Madame Masque make an example out of him. He couldn't let Mamá and Dad watch him die on Live TV.
Two down. Nine to go.
Flipping to his feet to avoid another bullet because he clearly wasn't allowed to take a time-out, he thwipped a web at Vulture as he swooped at him. He leaned back, digging into the ground, Vulture's motors whirring in protest.
Just as Rhino charged at him, he slingshotted himself up at Vulture, upper-cutting him as hard as he could. Twirling in the air, their flight uncontrolled, Miles kept punching until he was forced to springboard off - Vulture crashing into the spot Shocker had been lounging in the seats.
Cursing him out, Shocker blasted Miles before he could so much as thwip a web. The shockwave was so strong it hurtled him clear across the stadium, right into the seats on the other side of the room with a bang.
Miles sat up in the crater, squeezing his eyes shut against the waves of pain throbbing through him. Everything hurt. He couldn't keep this up forever. It was only when a shriek of HobGoblin's bombs landed beside him that he jumped out; the blast's heat felt even through his suit.
"That's it!" a voice shouted, warbly - electronic. He didn't recognize its speaker. Miles landed in the middle of the room with a roll, forcing himself up and into a crouch. "I want a piece of this twerp."
Flipping away from their first attack and over a charging Rhino, he spotted the figure rising into the air - a light show announcing his challenge.
"Hi, Electro," Miles greeted, cradling his stomach - the only comfort he allowed himself. "I had always wondered how a fight between us would go."
"Wonder no more, bug," Electro declared.
Miles leaned back to avoid a ball of lava from Molten Man, his venom surging beneath his skin. Flipping through the narrow gap of Electro's blast and another bullet from Bullseye, he landed with a roll in time to face the new opponent's next beam of electricity.
This he didn't avoid.
Absorbing the waves of electricity, he channeled it through his whole body and aimed.
Vulture didn't see it coming - his wings completely short-circuited, sending him careening into the ground. He hit the stadium seats with a loud bang, debris scattering over the battlefield. Three down.
Electro stopped then, looking at him in mystified horror. Miles blew 'smoke' off of his finger-guns and 'holstered' them. "I had always wanted to reenact that scene from Avatar," Miles joked. "Hey, can you do that again?"
"Do NOT do that again!" Screwball shrieked, finally standing up from her lounged position. "Electro, you will fight Peter. Do NOT attack Miles again!"
Like a scolded puppy, Electro floated back down into one of the stadium seats, head hung. Four down. Seven to go.
Maybe he would actually survive. Miles let himself smile, straightening up. "Aw, Electro, you sure you don't want to flip sides? Be electricity pals?"
He didn't get the chance to tease him anymore. Rhino charged at him again, and when Miles tried to jump over him, he was ready. Snagging a leg, he slammed Miles into the ground, then again, before raising him upside down.
"You are a pain," Rhino grumbled as Miles blinked the stars out of his eyes, waves of aching pain throbbing through him.
Miles bitterly grinned. "You're the one that signed up for a death match. I never planned on making it easy."
Miles raised his hands to web Rhino in the face - Rhino was quicker. He threw Miles across the field, sending him rolling. He tried to right himself, skidding, digging into the ground with both hands and feet, but he was too slow to avoid Molten Man grabbing him.
Hands wrapped around his waist, pinning Miles's arms to his side. His back was scorched against Molten Man's skin.
Choking through a scream, he lifted his legs up to his stomach before throwing his momentum forward. Planting his feet on the ground, he threw Molten Man over his head - breaking his grip.
The split second he needed to recover, to keep himself upright, was too long.
Spider-sense arching, his legs buckled as shattering pain swept through his right knee.
He couldn't help his agonized cry as he hit the ground, arms bracing his fall. He rolled onto his side to keep the pressure off his new wound. The small moment of reprieve was the only chance he had to look at his knee - at the bloody mess it had become.
It wasn't good. It was nauseating. Bullseye had put a bullet through it.
That was all the time he had before Molten Man tried to grab him again. Miles rolled away from his reaching hands and used a web attached to the ceiling to drag himself upright.
He tried to take a step back, and it crippled him, crashing him back to the ground. Barely suppressing his whimpers from the excruciating pain, his eyes met Rhino's as he slowly approached.
"The little spider finally falls," Rhino taunted, showing off all his teeth in his smile. They were bloody.
Miles crawled back, his burns scraping the ground, heaving for breath. "Only took eleven of you," he retorted.
Rhino made a grab for him, and he flipped back, landing on his one good leg, and thwipped a web at the ceiling. He yanked himself up, swinging in a large arch before landing on the roof.
Flickering into invisibility, he crawled towards the middle. He had to find a way out before it really was too late, nevermind he hadn't spotted one before-
Spider-sense pounding in his ear, he was forced to let go as HobGoblin's bombs exploded all around him. Thwipping a web to try and stabilize his fall failed as it snapped from another explosion.
He hit the ground again, crashing and rolling uncontrollably until he came to a stop. A fresh wave of bombs followed him, and it was all he could do to scramble out of range. It didn't work.
The explosion blew him back and into the wall, cracking the surface. He slumped down.
With tears in his eyes, he barely had the strength to sit upright. Everything hurt. He was bleeding. His limbs were shaking from exertion. Sweat dripped down his nose. He felt cold.
Glancing to the side, he locked eyes with a camera. Its lens zoomed in on him, whirring to get a better angle on him. He swallowed and looked away, trying to flicker into invisibility, but his concentration was shot. He couldn't.
A joke about time-outs was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. It was too vulnerable. It revealed too much.
There was no break. He wasn't allowed one. The whole point was for him to die.
Barely dodging another bullet, it embedded in the wall next to his ear, he used another web to get airborne as Rhino charged. From his bird's eye perspective, he spotted a way to stop Molten Man.
HobGoblin's bombs had created a crater, revealing the huge pipes under the surface of this place. If they had water thrumming through them, he could destroy one and douse him.
Another barrage of bombs followed him, but he dropped to the ground before they could hurt him, right over the top of the pipes. When he put a hand over the largest one, he could feel it subtly vibrating under the pressure inside it.
Miles's eyes darted up at movement; Rhino was getting ready to charge again. He didn't have time.
Rearing back, barely leaning back far enough to avoid another bullet, he punched down as hard as he could. The pipe dented but didn't crack. Rhino was charging.
Desperate strength fueling his tired arms, he tried again. It caved in further - it still hadn't cracked.
Miles scrambled to get out of Rhino's way but knew he wouldn't be quick enough. Hands up to protect his face, he braced himself.
Crack. Fssshhhhh.
Rhino yelped in shock, and to Miles's delight, he watched as he got blown back by a jet of water - having stepped right into the dented metal, finishing the job for Miles. He had never been so happy to get soaked in his life.
He wasn't down for the count, Rhino still got to his feet, but it was a small victory that had him smiling.
Obscured by the fountain of water, Miles concentrated as hard as he could - flickering in bursts and starts until he was invisible. Molten Man had backed up - recognizing the water for the threat it was to him.
He limped out of the water, slow, listening to Screwball's frantic commentary as the villains searched for him.
Miles aimed. He would have to be quick.
Thwipping a web at Molten Man, he tugged as hard as he could, sending him hurtling towards the water before he could burn through the web. His scream sent a thrill through him as Molten Man frantically scrambled back.
Only to get punched by Miles, his camouflage wearing off, and sent straight into the fountain.
Steam erupted in a huge plume. Molten Man landed in the stands in a heap, his normally orange glowing skin reduced to a sickly gray.
Five down. Six to go.
In his small moment of triumph, he was too slow to respond to his constantly whining spider-sense.
Rhino's horned head sent him hurtling up, and only a quick web had him righting himself before he crashed into the wall. Swinging away, his eyes darted to Screwball. Her hand at her ear; the microphone turned off as she talked to someone. Who was she talking to?
It was all he saw before dropping into a roll, another barrage of bombs snapping his webs. He tried to get up but collapsed again as sickening pain lanced through him.
How was he going to take down Rhino? It was clear they wouldn't let him stay airborne.
He had to keep going. He had defeated almost half of them. He could do this.
Spider-sense rearing up, he was too slow to get out of the way of a blast from Shocker. He tumbled end over end, his back colliding with something solid that wrapped around him.
Miles only had a split second to realize he was in Rhino's hand before he was slammed down, the ground caving in around him. Rolling out from under his crushing foot, tasting iron in the back of his throat from his now bloody nose, he thwipped a web at Rhino's face.
It allowed him the time he needed to get up, but not enough to dodge Rhino's fist.
Cushioning the blow with both hands, only able to brace himself with one foot, he shifted his hold to stick onto him. He twisted around, ready to throw Rhino over his head and onto his back - a position vulnerable enough that he could maybe venom strike him hard enough to take him out of the fight.
Spider-sense screaming at him - he didn't realize the real threat until it was too late.
Shnk.
The pressure from Rhino's fist stopped. Miles let go of Rhino's hand to hold on to the knife now embedded in his abdomen.
All the air had been driven out of him. He met the masked face of Taskmaster, a burning ball of grief igniting in his chest. No!
With a desperate, agonized cry, venom fueling the punch, he cracked Taskmaster as hard as he could. It sent him hurtling back, crashing into the far side's barriers.
Miles collapsed to his knees, his vision already fading out, ignoring the wave of pain it sent through him. Tears streamed down his face. A sob bubbled up before he could stop it.
I'm sorry," he choked out. Glancing up, unable to see through his blurred vision, he hoped he was looking into a camera. That Mama and Dad were on the other side. "I tried so hard."
He pulled the knife out. The pain was excruciating, forcing another sob out of him. He threw it to the side. Miles knew it was against medical advice, but there would be no medical aid. There would be no surgery. There was no surviving.
He would not live to see the new day dawn.
Dying with his enemy's branded weapon inside him was something he couldn't let happen.
If his family ever got his body, if they ever got to bury him, he didn't want them to see that.
The knife dripped with his blood and something blue. He couldn't bring himself to wonder what it was. It didn't matter.
A hand settled on the top of Miles's head - Rhino's. "Rest easy, little spider. You fought well."
He was dying, and it was all being caught on Live TV.
He would be the forever failed successor of Peter Parker.
As he collapsed, his eyes closing, all he could think about was Ganke, his Mamá, Billie, his Dad. He would miss them. He hoped they would stay safe.
He hoped they wouldn't grieve too long.