Miguel O’Hara is crouched on top of a tall building. He’s on a mission for the spider society to find miles morales. He crouched there, the pouring rain soaking his skin tight suit, but he refuses to call it a night. Is around 2AM. The streets of Nueva York are almost always bustling, but at odd hours the only sounds you can hear are raindrops and the occasional rat scurrying by. Miguel perches high above the cityscape in a state of focus, scanning the night for any signs of the anomaly he was tasked to catch. The rain pours down relentlessly, as if the clouds themselves are trying to interfere with the mission at hand. Miguel is dressed in his rain-resistant blue and red spandex suit, but the wetness still soaks through his clothes, chills down his spine running with every gust of wind.

He suddenly hears a loud, blood curdling scream coming from an alleyway nearby. “dios mio..” the 6’9 Irish-Mexican man mutters.