Miles Morales (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
telarano) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nexus_crossings2018-11-30 12:43 am
telarano) wrote in nexus_crossings2018-11-30 12:43 am
'Cause they will run you down, down til you fall
This was not the Spiderman that everyone knew. He was shorter, scrawnier (somehow this was possible) and his costume was black and red. A couple people had met him so far, but one didn't need to know him to realize that the rips to his clothing wasn't normal. Nor was the smell hazing him, smoke, fire, char. Blood.
Even without how he was trying not to limp he was clearly twitchy, practically shaking with adrenaline still as he found a more out of the way bench to sink down onto with a hiss of discomfort. He could feel the pain of his leg starting to punch through the fight or flight his life had been for the last hour or so, knew it would be followed by other injuries as he started to recover. But for now his ears were still ringing with the lingering echoes of the roar of infernos and gunfire, hyper-aware of his surroundings as he turned his attention to picking open the rip in the thigh of his suit again to get a look at the gash there. The bandage had gotten lost somewhere in the chaos, and it was a mess again, and he thinks it might be a bit worse-looking than it had started as.
At least he had his mask, so no one would see the lingering panic, or the exhaustion. And even without his spider sense he'd know someone was coming closer, speaking up in a voice that would be almost have a joking tone if not for the thready edge that hinted how close to the end of his tether this kid was.
"So... you wouldn't by chance know how to tell if something needs stitches, would you?" If not he had the web-shooters, could just web the injury over. He doubted that'd be good for the long run but it'd stop the bleeding at least while he hunted down a clinic.
Even without how he was trying not to limp he was clearly twitchy, practically shaking with adrenaline still as he found a more out of the way bench to sink down onto with a hiss of discomfort. He could feel the pain of his leg starting to punch through the fight or flight his life had been for the last hour or so, knew it would be followed by other injuries as he started to recover. But for now his ears were still ringing with the lingering echoes of the roar of infernos and gunfire, hyper-aware of his surroundings as he turned his attention to picking open the rip in the thigh of his suit again to get a look at the gash there. The bandage had gotten lost somewhere in the chaos, and it was a mess again, and he thinks it might be a bit worse-looking than it had started as.
At least he had his mask, so no one would see the lingering panic, or the exhaustion. And even without his spider sense he'd know someone was coming closer, speaking up in a voice that would be almost have a joking tone if not for the thready edge that hinted how close to the end of his tether this kid was.
"So... you wouldn't by chance know how to tell if something needs stitches, would you?" If not he had the web-shooters, could just web the injury over. He doubted that'd be good for the long run but it'd stop the bleeding at least while he hunted down a clinic.
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But she seemed to be genuine, and Miles had never felt quite so desperately alone as he did right now, so that offered hand would be accepted. Just pretend the hand that grasps yours isn't trembling Harley, and pay no attention to how wobbly the kid looks as he pushes to his feet, because there's no way this isn't a kid at his size, even with the costume to hide behind.
"That'd... that'd be really appreciated."
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If she has to throw him over her shoulder and take him to a safe place. She will.
"Okay. The best way is to start is to remove anything covering any injuries..." She gestures at the costume. "But you could do that without taking off your mask. I have done that before. For Robin. And Batman."
"We will find a safe place for us to take a look. I was a Doctor. So completely professional here..."
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And while he is letting himself be led, something about her wording just had him actually catching on.
"Wait... 'was' a Doctor? What happened?" AKA should he be worried? Because the low-key buzz of spidersense was not making figuring that out any easier.
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"But they can't take away the knowledge."
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This is fine.
This is completely fine. Just gonna follow the ex-doctor to her not black market organ mill and assume everything will turn out fine because this is one Spider-tot who's reached his capacity for things going wrong. If she did try to steal his kidneys or something, he'd probably just laugh himself sick at this point.
Stick a fork in him he's long past done.
But the comment about knowledge was true enough. A reassuring thing, enough to have him nodding, even if a bit uncertain still.
"You've got a point there."
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And there are doors that lead to where her other Wayward boys make their home.
She pushes the silks to the side, tying them up out of the way. And puts a big white blanket on the floor. This might scream organ mill a little.
She heads into the bathroom, and returns with a first-aid kit, a bathrobe, and a towel. "Uncover what you need. And settle in. We will get you looked after."
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The instructions earned a nod from him, Miles glancing around again before working on peeling out of the suit. With how often he had to quick-change in an alley, modesty wasn't really a thing, but he'd also taken to wearing bike shorts under everything. Less embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions that way.
The graze wound certainly wasn't the end of the injuries. The kid was riddled with bruises, scrapes, and some rather wide swaths of burns. Not as severe as they could have been, the costume had diffused some of the heat, so instead of a crispy mess, he was at least alive and kicking.
Pay no attention to the tilt of his head, he's trying to guess if he'd get judged for just rolling up in the blanket and sleeping instead of worrying about tending the injuries.
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She can almost guess what he is thinking, even without being able to see his face. "You can rest after we tend to your injuries."
"This is healing balm. It is all natural. And will take care of your bruises, scrapes and burns."
"But first... let me clean that wound, and stitch you up. The healing balm will help ensure the stiches heal without leaving a scar behind." Harley pulls out antibiotics, gauze, stich thread and needle.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
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But he knew she was right. He was a mess, he'd just be more of a mess if he left things too long. So he'll just be carefully easing himself down to sit, leg stretched out in front of him so Harley could reach the injury.
"Norman Osborn. He... he killed the original Spider-Man in my reality. We thought he was dead too, but he escaped from wherever he was being held. He was coming after Spider-Man's aunt again like he had when he was stopped the first time. But he's done something to his genetic makeup so he can turn into this huge demon-looking thing now." Because that's what every kid should be tussling with. What happened to cutting their teeth on bank robbers and purse snatchers?
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"Norman Osborn." She repeats the name, slowly, as if memorizing it.
She starts with treating the wound area. "Do you need help stopping him?"
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"No, we... we took him down." God he hoped the man stayed down this time. Disproved his announcement of immortality. Not just because of his threat to everyone, but the implications for Miles himself if the same genetic tinkering had left him immortal too.
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And there is also Mightyena, sitting on the stairs, tilting his head at the newest arrival to the apartment.
"Okay-dokie." Harley carefully applies the antibiotic over the wound. "You have a whole team of spider-dudes?"
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"No it's... usually just me? I mean Spider-Woman comes around sometimes but she works with the Avengers and stuff and I'm just the kid scrambling around New York. Spider-Man came back too- the original I... the last time Osborn showed up he killed him, and it's... I don't know. He helped take Norman down though so there's that. But he's leaving to figure things out."
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"A kid. Yeah..." She pops a piece of bubblegum in her mouth. Chewing as she concentrates on starting the stitching process.
"Sounds like you just need a place to take some hard-earned rest."
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"I need to sleep for like... at least a year." And therapy. So much therapy. If he didn't have at least a little PTSD at this point he'd be amazed.
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"We will protect you." She nods at Mighytena with a smile.
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"Um no offense but... what is it?" His mom would murder him if he took a pill without knowing what he was taking. She'd rise right from the grave and cross dimension to do it.
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It is good to be BFFs with a biochemist.
"And don't worry. I won't remove your mask. Harley Quinn promise!"
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"Well... if you promise." Though legitimately if you're gonna steal his kidney or something just leave him somewhere comfy after okay? Lifting the mask enough to pop the pill into his mouth and swallow before tugging it back into place, hunkering down against the pokemon pooch at his side.
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It is easy for Harley to lift the sleeping kid up, and carry him over to the couch. Mightyena stays close, and snuggles up close to him. She will make sure all his bruises and burns get covered with her healing balm. And cover any that need covered with gauze.
And cover him with a blanket. And tuck him in.
And watch over him, by sitting in a chair nearby. Make sure no one else in the house takes off his mask. Or disturbs him.
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