𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓼- 𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓵 𝓞'𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓪

The Sea of Blood and Glass

Author's note:

Question for all of my Spanish speaking Miguel simps out there: Would any of you be willing to help me with some phrases for the next chapter? I'm hopelessly clueless and I don't want to resort to google translate lol. Message me if you're interested! 

BACK TO THE STORY

The sky exploded, and shards of glass tinkled down, singing like windchimes. Through the broken window, a skeletal monster bowled Miguel over, and dug its black thumbs into his neck.

Miguel collapsed onto his back, his claws shinking out and his fangs bared in a snarl. They grappled in the sparkling shards of glass, and the monster didn't bleed, but Miguel did. 

Every slash of dripping red across his face and arms catapulted Miguel further into a raging frenzy. He got hurt, he fought harder. He channeled every fresh injury into a vicious wave.

You yanked on the stretchy fabric of your mask, feeling its silk brush against your face. You fought like a cobra, striking hard and then dancing back on your toes, just out of reach. You lassoed the creature around its shriveled, bone-white neck and pulled the red-stranded webs taut, choking it. Miguel's powerful, bare-knuckled fist beat down on its face, but the creature wriggled free and launched into the air. Like a nightmarish eagle, it spread its wings wide against the cold night air. 

Its grotesque silhouette was backlit by a halo of starlight. The monster had bony wings. Its disgustingly-thin, emaciated body was swathed in a stiff, black tunic, and the tips of its fingers were singed to black ash. It wore a plaster plague doctor mask and carried a scythe. 

"What is that," you breathed to Miguel, feet braced wide apart and adrenaline writhing underneath your skin. 

"Where am I?" The monster hoarsely demanded, beating its bone wings. It began convulsing uncontrollably, shifting into pixelated colors. It collapsed in a tangled heap on the floor. Glitching. 

"An anomaly," Miguel said, shock edging his voice. The dark curve of his eyebrows hardened. "It shouldn't be here." He tugged off his clumsy grey sweatshirt, the way boys do in movies. He grabbed the back and jerked it over his head. 

Miguel dropped to all fours like a predatory cat and lunged toward the bone monster. The broad expanse of his tan back rippled with muscles. Miguel slashed his claws and bodyslammed its gaunt frame. 

 The monster stopped twitching and rocketed into the sky. It ripped its scythe across Miguel's toned side, leaving an oozing gash. Through the horrifying, beaked mask, its eyes landed on you and narrowed with recognition. 

"Spiderman," it rasped in a scratchy voice dripping with hatred. 

"Spidergirl, actually," you corrected with a breathy laugh, your typical rambles flowing with your adrenaline. You lightly bounced back and forth, tilting your head to the side. "If we're being accurate. Speaking of accurate, what's your Halloween costume? The plague doctor?" 

"Costume," the monster scoffed, bristling at the suggestion. It swung its powerful scythe towards your head again, and even though you ducked you felt it snatching at the wind. "I am Necromance. Why did you bring me here?" 

"We didn't bring anyone here," you objected, nimbly dashing away from its punch. "You got yourself in this mess all on your own." Necromance hissed at your slight and fisted his black-tipped fingers. He crushed your windpipe with a solid hit to the neck. You felt a wave of dizziness and scrambled backward on the slick floor. Necromance raised his scythe over his head, preparing to strike. You flinched and closed your eyes. 

Just before the scythe rammed in your skull, Miguel ripped the weapon away. He choked Necromance in a headlock with his bare bicep tucked under the monster's chin. Necromance frantically spasmed in Miguel's grip. 

"Don't touch her," Miguel snarled into its ear. 

"Wait, wait," Necromance wheezed out. "I'm a good guy. I heal the sick. I just want to go home." Miguel didn't let up, tightening the pressure with cold eyes. Miguel had no webs and no suit, but he still had his intimidating, supernatural strength. And enough cruelty to freeze over a lake. 

"Miguel, maybe we should hear him out," you interjected over the inhumane gagging sounds. Miguel didn't even spare you a glance, entirely focused on his dark task. 

"He almost killed you," Miguel grunted, sweat glistening on his forehead. Necromance flailed in a panic at the words, desperate for breath. But Miguel's grip was relentless. 

"Miguel-"

"I'll choke him out. That's it." 

You glanced away, knowing better than to argue. At least he wasn't going to kill him. Finally, Necromance slumped to the floor, his wings clumsily jutting in odd angles. Miguel stumbled back, covered in blood and sweat. 

"They're not supposed to come here," Miguel said, stress darkening his features. "The anomalies. I didn't think they could reach the spider society." He paced back and forth, his movements jerky. "That means more are coming." 

Miguel tapped a few controls on his technological watch, then staggered toward a bubbling portal that burst into the air. Limping, he dragged Necromance into the portal, struggling to haul his weight under the staggering severity of his wound. His shoulders caved as he glanced back at you. "Stay here."

"Miguel, you're hurt," you started toward him, fear pricking your chest at the blood spilling down his torso. "You can't go in there yourself-"

"I said stay here," Miguel shouted, his pain driving him to aggressiveness. He whisked into the portal without another word. Then everything blipped into silence. 

Exhausted and shell-shocked, you crumpled to your knees like a paper doll. Warmth oozed over your legs, and you almost vomited when you realized you were sitting in the sparkling sea of blood and glass. 

From the shattered window, the night air blew cold onto the open cuts slicing up your suit. You shivered on the floor, waiting for Miguel. You didn't know what else to do. You were afraid that if you picked yourself up, your legs would shake themselves out of their sockets. 

You'd listened when Miguel had shouted at you to stay. But you shouldn't have. 

Because when Miguel tumbled through the portal, he was barely conscious as he collapsed onto his hands and knees. Sweat gleamed off his bare shoulders, embedded with painful, sharp glass. He grimaced in pain, maroon blood staining his fangs. 

 An ominous note, written in black-inked cursive, was burned into his forearm. 

Not sick.