What It Means To Be Spider-Man

1: What It Means To Be Spider-Man

Hello! I'm sort of redoing my previous Spider-Verse story. It will have a sort of similar plot, but I was thinking and wanted to redo the start because I felt like I didn't explore the events on Earth 42 and/or how Miles gets home and saves/doesn't save his father blah blah blah enough. So here it is in more detail :D

Also! One thing I want to focus on in this rewrite is also Miles being Spider-Man. Yes, literally. I didn't realize before but when Miles was introduced in the comics the world hated it, despite other spider people existing, Spider-Man wasn't allowed to be anyone but a white Peter Parker. I love how the directors and creators of the Spider Verse literally attack this issue and make Miles the only "real Spider-Man" amongst a society of spider people, seeing as he's the only one who doesn't give up.

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Earth-42 was...not a pleasant sight. It felt like the city lived in a distant nightmare in which day simply never came, trapped in the forever darkened cloudy skies. Rain was a common occurrence, leaving the messy streets drenched in the tears of the Earth.

Miles Morales was not unaware nor foreign to these attributes, well, depending on which Miles Morales you were speaking to. One had been forced into these harsh conditions for his entire life, losing his father at a young age, having grown up with his mother and Uncle, he easily fell to his Uncle's life of crime.

Morally, could you blame him? The world was a harsh reality waiting to eat up anyone's dreams if you let up for even a sliver of a second, this world was especially aggressive. Unable to watch his mother struggle as a single mom, he became hardened, though a cocoon opened too young.

It was understandably uncanny that Miles could be staring at that version of him, the one born exactly the same, but led down a different path by a view choice events in the multitude of universes that existed. When he had been captured by this version of himself and his uncle, his heart had been racing, beating faster than what must've been healthy, but now? Staring at his other self made him feel...insecure, angry.

"If it was your father, I would help you save him." He told his doppelgänger truthfully.

The prowler put his mask back up, trying to hide the trauma brought up by the mention of Jefferson. "But it's not, and I'm not Spider-Man. I don't try to save everyone."

"You'd be surprised, all of the other spider people would agree with you." Miles laughed dryly, the truth only hurt when you couldn't do anything about, or at least, that's how he saw it. It didn't hurt that his father was going to die in two days because he knew he could prevent it. It hurt when no one would listen to him, when they all tried to stop him from being who Spider-Man is suppose to be. That realization had it's own special place, dwelling deep in his chest.

Glancing around the apartment, he saw his uncle in the corner leaning against a desk, tinkering with something. The television was on, displaying countless crimes happening at this very moment. This Earth was past doomed, maybe once he saved his father he could come back and help this place. Though, that was a distant thought.

Even if he managed to get home, defeat Spot, he'd have to fight most if not all of the spider society. Miguel didn't seem like the type of guy to change his beliefs simply because one canon event was erased without consequence.

"What would mom think of you? She's busting her ass at the hospital and you're what? Sending people there?"

His pointless antagonizing actually had a point, for when Prowler Miles cracked his powered up gauntlet across his jaw, Miles clenched his core, taking the hit. What his doppelgänger failed to notice was the little bit of energy hastily seeping into his body.