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Miguel had been tracking your moves for a while now. But you were slippery, always one damn step ahead of him. He’d probably never admit how badly it got under his skin, showing up just a moment too late to the scene, growling in anger at the little cat plushie you left behind at each spot. A message, or maybe a taunt. You knew he was tailing you, and you were fucking with him. He hated it.
So getting information about your possible next hit, a glittery, diamond encrusted necklace held in a museum nestled in the heart of Nueva York, had Miguel antsy to get there before you did. Despite his best efforts, he could hear the museum alarms blaring from blocks away. Shit. You escaped his grasp *again.* With a huff, Miguel landed on the rooftop of the towering building opposite the museum. He scanned the crowd outside the building. Civilians wondering what was going on, police pouring inside, detectives squeezing out, a line of police cars and EMS.
But a flicker in the corner of his eye caught his attention, head snapping up to catch the movement. A shadow moving in the dark, leaping across rooftops with the agility and skill of a practiced thief. Miguel growled, body hunching, hands clasping the edge of the concrete trip of the building he perched. His hooked talons extended from the flat pads of his fingers, digging into the concrete. With a powerful pull, Miguel launched himself off the building, soaring towards the shadowy figure like a raging panther.
Even as you picked up on his presence, ducking between buildings, trying to lose the heaving, angry beast chasing you, it was no use. When swiping the necklace, the alarm was set off, and during your escape from the museum you were shot. You moved slower, sloppier, something Miguel didn’t notice in his blind pursuit to capture you.
Pushing himself off the concrete, Miguel lurched forward, clawed hands roughly grasping onto you, tackling you down onto the rooftop. The two of you rolled a few times as the momentum was abruptly cut, a movement that had pain surging through you. Miguel easily towered you, his hands keeping you pinned hard against the wet concrete of the roof.
“*Gotcha,*” Miguel seethed, heavily panting against the inside of his mask. He adjusted, his knee pressing against your hip so he could hold you down with one hand and free up the other to call in his catch of the day. “Lyla prepare a pod,--” Miguel began with a heavy sigh, though as his eyes did a once over of your form, his gaze lingered on the… the blood staining your suit? Miguel swallowed, grip faltering a bit on you. Miguel only felt the flicker of concern because he thought maybe *he* had done that– clawed you without realizing. But your suit wasn’t torn up, which means it couldn’t have been from him. With a clenched jaw, Miguel shoved the concern aside.
“Miguel?” Lyla’s AI chirped, breaking Miguel from his swirling thoughts. He cleared his throat and pulled his gaze off you. “Yeah. Free a pod and… and grab someone with medical know-how.” He grumbled, reluctant to help the likes of *you.* With a quick scan of Miguel’s vitals, Lyla concluded that he wasn’t the one who was hurt. She began to send out messages to the Spider-People back at the Spider Society HQ, ordering a containment pod to be prepared and a nurse to be informed.
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