Chapter Text
It was beautiful. The same a tapestry might be, the same a great large canvas might be- covered in so many strokes on paint that it was impossible to simply pin one singular speck amongst the flurry. An entire society.
It felt almost like dreaming.
Jessica had been the first person you had ever met from another universe, and she'd made her introduction a memorable one. The shredding roar of her motorcycle, soft warmed eyes behind yellowed lenses, and a rounded belly which she kept a gentle hand over almost instinctually as she spoke of another world where people just like you and just like her made base. She was kind; with a firm sort of attentiveness that made her words waft of a mentor-ship she'd most likely showed to others. She'd made herself open to you, in sharing fates and senses. That ringing that still lingered faintly in your ears as you two spoke. Exchanging names and monikers- Spider-Woman to your own Spider-self.
It wasn't difficult to follow her. After all, first blush was all it'd taken for you to trust her.
It had been a matter of absorption from that point onwards.
Earth-928B served as the housing for the headquarters and collection of the Spider-Society in Nueva York, a society pushed into a future so far beyond your own that you'd balked at the sight of a car floating past the headquarter windows as if gravity served it no purpose. Jessica had shut it with a tap of her finger and continued relaying once your shock had subsided. Smiling in a way that made a small line form on the dimple of her cheek. The task wasn't simple, but necessary; the preservation of the vast, interconnecting web of universes to prevent total collapse. The avoidance of anomalies. The keeping of canon events.
It was a mouthful and by the time Jessica had finished speaking, the look on your face alone must've been enough that she felt she had to reassure.
"Too much?" There was a smile hiding in the way she'd spoken it. A bit of knowing, a bit of exhaustion. It wasn't the first time; it certainly wouldn't be the last.
"No, no-" One brow is all Jessica raises. "Well, yes. Yes, a bit much."
"I can't say it won't get worse." She'd picked up her pace then. Moving onwards towards a long hall-way that had been sectioned off by large, metallic doors that each opened with every step taken further in. Humming quietly in awakening to, what you assumed, was the device that had sat on her wrist and too, your own. "Most of what I'm telling you is least complicated parts, but Miguel-well..."
"Miguel?" The lighting had begun to darken the further you both continued. Deeper blues and purples, shielding it seemed, from the light outside. Technology, of all assortments and makes. And Jessica had fallen silent, a slight guilt carrying to her eyes.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
The first thing you noticed about Miguel, as you'd learn subsequently, O'Hara, was the large width the expanse of his back had taken up.
Then, not even a moment later, just how long the platform he stood upon was taking to descend to the level Jessica and yourself stood. The urge to laugh suppressed only by the singular look that Jessica, in her infinite wisdom, threw over her shoulder in your direction.
"That should be all, Jessica. I can handle it from here." His voice is softer than you expect, but firmer, as well, as if practiced in its seriousness. Holding it somewhere in his jaw and the face that he'd been yet to turn in your direction. Facing an onslaught of holographic screens, switched and flipped through quickly. A video, a momentary frame, someone smiling; it feels intrusive to stare, so you turn to Jessica. In her face, an expression of familiar annoyance you had yet to see (and felt, somewhere in your chest, a sense of relief to not have to be the recipient of).
"Oh I'm sure you'll handle it just fine. You know, I can handle a 'thank you for bringing me another Spiderfolk, Jessica, I appreciate it lots, Jessica' every once in a while too. But, you know, might just be me." You heard him stutter then, like a deer in navy blue headlights, and for the first time, the sight of his face as he turned. It makes sense of his voice.
For every hard line in his visage, there was a matching softness.
"There was an energy I was trying to maintain."
"What energy? Tall, dark, and Dracula?"
"What-no, that's not anything near what I-" Whatever image it was he'd attempted to portray, it dissolves faster by the seconds he stumbles to pull it back together. He takes to pinching the bridge of his nose, and the breath leaves there in a long sigh. Defeated and still descending ever-slowly down to where you and Jessica stand. Couple more minutes, you think, and maybe the platform will finally get there. "Thank you, Jessica, now can I please speak to them, alone this time?" It sounds like pleading than it does asking.
Jessica's satisfaction feels almost palpable.
"Now that's all you had to say." Jessica's hand is warm as it settles and pats your shoulder. Turning, but not before taking the chance to whisper in your ear. "Be patient with him. He's a lot, but he means well." Jessica was gone before the words could fully settle. Half-way down the long hall and the silence, filled by occasional chirping from the various technology lying around, was the only thing keeping the fine line between awkward and intimidating at a stand-still.
Someone had to be the first to speak. You settled on taking the short end.
"So...Miguel, huh?"
And short it was.
His name was Miguel O'Hara and he served as charge for the Spider-Society. Nueva York was his home, and Earth-928B was his universe. And he was indeed a lot, as Jessica had said.
You hadn't interceded as perhaps you could've, as the man talked on length. Restrained passion and frustration. There'd be whiffs of mourning in the events he'd recall with vagueness, warnings, omens of potential disaster. Every so often he'd mumble, and you'd catch a word or two spoken in Spanish. Then it'd pass, as quick as it came, and he'd return back to that serious front he'd presented from the moment he'd begun. As if the mantle of a leader was something Miguel had been expected to show at all possible times and all possible hours. He spoke with his hands plenty; in points, where you'd noticed his fingertips showed an edge to them. Claws, and fangs, that made him mumble slightly, though it seemed like something he'd covered up as mostly as he could.
He was every bit of mysterious as he was completely open to read.
The boundary had been clear. Talon-length, if the platform wasn't enough to tell.
You wanted to tear it down like Berlin.
"I don't expect much out of you. You keep an eye on anomalies, you report back to me, I deal with it, not you, me." The specification on himself makes his bottom jaw jut outwards as he enunciates it. The hard lines on his cheeks emphasizing themselves on his warm skin. His hands moving from himself, to yourself, then back again to his chest. So you follow, nodding, and there's a slight relief to his eyes that make the crow's feet soften. Pacified, hit with the smallest inkling of relief. Miguel doesn't allow himself a second before he returns back to his stiffness and his hands find themselves settled on his hips. Striking an almost exhausted, paternal form. "You're not saying much, which means you aren't listening. Or you don't care enough. Or both, which makes all the talking I just did useless."
But you are, so the assertion seems less accusatory as it feels cautious on his part.
"Stick to canon, keep an eye on anomalies, don't fuck up the multiverse. That's the gist of it, right?"
"Well, yeah, but-"
"I hear you. No use repeating what's been told well, right?" He means well. So you treat it as such, and he responds well in turn. Heavy eyebrows lifting slightly before he shrugs acceptingly to himself, musing quietly once more under his voice. When his hands fall off his hips, his shoulders follow; and it seems as if a smallest layer of the onion that is his whole show of gravitas falls with it. The brick wall that makes up the entirety of his massive frame offering a hand, which you offer your own, and shake with a confident firmness that makes a small hum resonate off his chest. Approval, you hope, or at the very least, respect.
"The Dimensional Travel Watch will let you jump back to your universe independently whenever you please. Surveillance included."
"Sick. Wait- at all times?"
"At all times." (Wonderful.)
There's an absence of warmth when Miguel breaks the handshake. The kind that forces you to awkwardly retrieve your hand from the air as it sits there, settling behind and out of sight as Miguel retreats himself back to his platform. The yellow screen igniting once again with holographic light. Dracula retreating back to his castle upon the hill. An unspoken signal of a finished conversation as it begins to drift back upwards.
"Dios te bendiga. Maybe we can talk more, después, you know, after I introduce myself to everyone else." The platform stalls, and though it's only for a moment, it's enough to let you know he heard. His back once more becoming the only sight left to see as it continues on its slow journey.
"Maybe." In his tone, it barely sounds like more than a murmur.
You've pushed enough. "Bueno, nos vemos." A good departure is nothing without a wave, so you leave it trailing behind you as you start down the long hall-way back to the menagerie. Giving farewell for the sedimentary moment. Though you received nothing back in physical motion, a look over your shoulder helps you catch the smallest whisper from Miguel as he fixates back on the vast array of data presented before him. Hands back in their rudimentary positions, swiping through and around with a great, heavy focus.
"Cuídate."
It's enough to keep a smile on your face for the rest of the day.