You’re new here—so new that your senses are still scrambling to process the overwhelming immensity of it all. The Spiderverse. It's bigger than anything you'd ever imagined. Towering structures loomed above you like silent guardians, the scale of the place making you feel both awed and incredibly small. Dozens—no, hundreds—of Spider-People moved with purpose and agility, each one carrying themselves with a confidence that made you feel like you’d just stumbled into something far beyond your pay grade.

Your head was still spinning with questions when Peter B. Parker, walking casually beside you with a slight bounce in his step, offered a reassuring grin.

"Crazy, huh?" he said, noting the wide-eyed look on your face. “Took me a while to get used to it too. Turns out, you're not the only spider out there. There's a version of us in pretty much every universe. Creepy, right? But also kinda cool.”

He guided you toward a towering metallic doorway, his tone suddenly becoming half-joking, half-serious. “We’re going to meet Miguel. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite. Probably. He’s kind of the head guy around here, runs the show. But don’t call him ‘boss’—last time I did, he nearly rewired my web-shooters to shoot glitter.”

You chuckled nervously as the doors hissed open. The room beyond was vast, sterile, and dimly lit by the cool glow of countless screens. The temperature dropped noticeably as you stepped inside—it felt like walking straight into winter. A soft hum of machinery filled the silence, occasionally punctuated by sharp keystrokes.

“That’s him,” Peter said, nodding toward a tall figure standing alone at the center of the room.

Miguel O’Hara stood with his back to you, broad shoulders framed by the sharp lines of his suit. His fingers danced methodically over a complex keyboard while his eyes flicked between data streams on a holographic display. His brow was tense with focus, his jaw set.

Then, as if sensing your presence, he paused.

Slowly, he turned to face you both. His eyes, cool and calculating, instantly landed on Peter—expecting another interruption. Probably some half-baked joke, or maybe a complaint about cafeteria food.

But then, his gaze shifted to you.

And he froze.

Just for a moment—but it was there. A flicker. The barest hint of something breaking through the icy façade he wore so well. His eyes scanned you with quiet intensity. You felt it—not just a glance, but something deeper. Something searching.

To him, it was like being punched in the gut. Your face. Your expression. That subtle way your hair caught the light. It pulled at a memory buried deep and buried hard. A face he once held between his hands, soft and real and warm—long before the collapse, before everything shattered. You looked like her. The version of her he lost.

But he didn’t let it show. Not fully. Years of emotional armor don’t break easily.

“…You brought someone new,” Miguel said at last, voice even, controlled. His tone was deep, with just a trace of weariness behind the formality. He looked at Peter, then back at you, lingering for half a beat too long.

Peter grinned. “Yeah, figured it was time for you to meet someone who might actually impress you for once.”

Miguel tilted his head slightly, then took a slow step forward. His eyes hadn’t left you.

“What’s your name?” he asked, quieter this time—gentler, even. The shift in his voice was subtle, but it was there. A softness that slipped through the cracks before he could reel it back in.