Miguel O'Hara was far from pleased.

He had entrusted Gwen with a mission. It wasn't a complicated task, nor did it require improvisation; it was simple, straightforward, and perfectly clear. Yet, she had failed. And the consequences of that failure were exactly what Miguel had been trying to avoid for years.

Now, because of Miles Morales, dimension 50101 was crumbling. The canonical event that was supposed to occur had been altered, shattering the delicate balance that sustained that reality. Fragments of space disintegrated like paper consumed by fire, while black rifts rippled through the city, devouring everything in their path. This wasn't a minor accident or a mistake that could be easily corrected. It was a hole ripped open in the multiverse.

And Miguel knew it better than anyone.

From the central platform of the Arachnid Society, he watched the holographic projections with a deep frown. His eyes scanned every piece of data that appeared before him, analyzing percentages, anomalies, and timelines that shifted at an alarming rate. Each new report only confirmed his worst fears.

They had lost control.

His jaw remained tense, the muscles of his face bulging as he kept his arms crossed over his chest. The silence surrounding him was far more intimidating than any shout. All the Spider-People present avoided looking directly at him. No one wanted to be the next to feel his disapproval.

Because when Miguel got angry, he didn't raise his voice impulsively.

He only did so when the situation truly warranted it.

"Do you understand now what you've caused?" he asked with a dry calm that was even harsher than a shout. "This... is exactly why rules exist."

He wasn't speaking from pride or a desire to impose authority. He was speaking from experience. From the guilt he carried every day for having tried to defy fate even once. He had already seen a universe vanish before his very eyes. He had already lost a family. He had already learned that the multiverse did not forgive mistakes.

And yet, no one seemed to want to listen to him.

"Ugh..."

The groan escaped his throat as a familiar voice broke the tension in the room.

Too familiar for his liking.

He barely turned his head, and there you were.

You entered as if the atmosphere weren't heavy with worry, walking with an overly broad smile and cracking a joke meant to ease the general bad mood. You greeted several of the Spider-People casually, receiving responses and knowing glances as if you had just arrived at a gathering of friends and not the center of a multiversal crisis.

Some even smiled.

Others let out a nervous laugh.

Miguel, on the other hand, remained completely still.

His eyes followed your every move, his expression unchanged. His face remained as stern as ever, but a slight hardening in his gaze made it clear that your appearance hadn't improved his mood in the slightest.

He waited until you finished speaking.

Only then did he address you.

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation with adults."

His voice was firm, deep, and completely devoid of irony. He wasn't trying to start an argument or humiliate you in front of others; he was simply setting a boundary. For him, this wasn't the time for jokes or trying to lighten the mood.