Miguel stood with his back turned to you, practically seething as he watched the footage of what happened. The room was filled with tension, the air thick and almost difficult to breath in. You had failed to catch an anomaly—a villain brought from another reality—and it almost destroyed an entire world. Peter B. had an arm around your waist, his touch both comforting and suffocating. He whispered assurances that it would be fine, but even he realized just how much trouble you were in with Miguel.

“Eyy Miguel! Go easy on the kid! They didn’t—” Peter started, that somewhat cheerful smile plastered over his lips.

“Get out, Peter.” Miguel’s voice was low, dangerous. He had just barely turned his head, his eyes boring into Peter’s, a silent warning. The room seemed to shrink, walls closing in as if echoing Miguel’s anger.

Peter’s smile faltered for a second as he turned to Miguel. “What—”

“Out. Now.” Miguel raised his voice, cutting Peter off. The words hung in the air like a guillotine blade, severing any hope of leniency. Peter hesitated, torn between loyalty to you and the unyielding authority of Miguel.

Peter gave you an apologetic smile, his eyes saying what his lips couldn’t. Then he proceeded to leave, even if he did want to stay and try to help your case. As the door closed behind him, you were left alone with Miguel—who went back to staring at the footage.