"Please, Uncle Aaron," Miles breathes.

He can't make it any louder than that. He can barely breathe at all; there's still metal tight around his throat, claw-tips digging into his neck, and it doesn't matter how hard he presses down against the Prowler's—against Uncle Aaron's wrist. There's no give in that grip.

Maybe that's a good thing, in its own way. Miles is up on his toes and he can barely keep those on the edge, has to keep kicking up for balance away from the sheer, empty drop yawning wide behind him. He's not even sure if Uncle Aaron's noticed; he's staring, eyes flickering over Miles' face, white showing all around, frozen in a way Miles has never seen on him before.

Miles had just been on the other side of this, and it's enough for him to hope: a painful, desperate sort of hope that only makes his quivering worse. Uncle Aaron hadn't known it was him. Doesn't want to kill him. But he also sees it when Uncle Aaron's eyes flick away, attention caught by something Miles can't hear around the pounding in his ears. He's hesitating, and if begging isn't enough, if Miles isn't enough—

The worst thing—besides the obvious, besides everything—is that even now, Miles can't tell what his uncle is going to do.

And then Uncle Aaron's jaw firms, and Miles can hear the high-pitched whine of the claws reengaging, even over his frantic heart. He can't, he can't be—

But then there are razor tips coming at his face and Miles can only screw his eyes shut and brace—

There's a tug on the edge of his mask, one small, pinched grip, and then the whole thing slips back down over his face, rough fabric scratching at his cheeks. Miles only has a split second to realize, to open his eyes and stare, before Uncle Aaron says, soft, "Hold tight, Miles."

Hold—?

Uncle Aaron yanks him forward hard, and Miles doesn't even have time to balance before the claws at his neck release and then Uncle Aaron ducks into him, hauling him up over his shoulder. Uncle Aaron is already moving even as it happens, hauling him up and launching them both forwards, and Miles flails, grabbing hard at the cape under his hands as they go over the edge and drop—

Except Uncle Aaron bounces, spring-boarding them off the side of the house as easily as any spider-person, and Miles can't breathe again, crushed tight his arm and his shoulder as the world around him whirls—

And then they're down, hitting the ground at a stumbling run. Miles coughs as Uncle Aaron's shoulder jolts under his ribs, knocking some of the air out of him. He shoves a little, squirming back until Uncle Aaron lets him slide—he catches him under the thighs instead of letting him stand, but at least now Miles is upright.

"What—?" Miles gasps, twisting, and then he bites the rest off whole, because Uncle Aaron got his own mask back on somewhere in the fall, and Miles hadn't been expecting the Prowler's opaque eyes suddenly right up next to his face. Uncle Aaron isn't even looking at him, though; he's staring back towards the house like a dog on alert.

"Kingpin was watchin'. You think he would'a let either of us walk?" They're his uncle's words in the Prowler's mechanized voice, and it still raises the hair on Miles' neck even now that he knows. "No, don't let go—!"

Miles freezes, hands still sticking to the cape he'd bunched in a death-grip in the fall. Uncle Aaron flings himself to the side and there's a roar of sound that blasts Miles' ears, sharp like a gunshot.

"Prowler!" Kingpin thunders, voice breaking past the ringing in Miles' ears to set his heart galloping.

Uncle Aaron is already running, hitching Miles up and darting across the backyard for the far corner of the house. But all Miles can see is Kingpin's mountainous form stomping forwards over his uncle's shoulder, looming black against the sky like he might block out the sun, except for the silver glint of the gun.

It's instinct that does it, like that first, victorious swing when Miles had stopped listening and just acted. His sticky hand comes clean of the cape, easy as anything, and he throws his wrist over Uncle Aaron's shoulder and shoots.

And it hits, a line of webbing landing smack-dab onto Kingpin's gun, and Miles pulls before he can overthink it, slinging the gun straight back to his own hands.

"Yes!" Miles whoops, and then fumbles to catch the gun as he nearly drops it. "Uncle Aaron! I got his gun!"

"—fucking Christ, Miles," Uncle Aaron hisses in his ear, and then he skids to a stop so sudden that it nearly sends both of them to the ground.

It's a close save, just in time to avoid Scorpion's wildly flailing tail as he tumbles down off the roof and smashes through the fence in front of them, a deadly tangle of metal and muscle spinning uncontrollably through. Kicked there, Miles guesses as Gwen leaps by overhead.

But now Scorpion is blocking the way, and they can't go back. Kingpin's halfway across the yard now, a scowling face and furious fists, entirely out of place among the dusty old planters, and it might be two-on-one if he reaches them now, but Miles—

A red-blue blur, and Peter flies into Kingpin, kicking him in the head with both feet and launching him through the last section of the fence still standing.

"Miles—!" Peter calls to him, and then stops, arms half raised as though about to throw a web.

"I'm okay," Miles yells back, waving the override key at Peter frantically before tugging the chain of it firmly over his own head. Then he grabs his uncle's shoulder again as Uncle Aaron glances back at the noise, trying to reassure Peter that this is, in fact, a rescue and not a kidnapping.

Peter shakes his head, but only says, "Miles, we gotta go!"

But they're already going, Uncle Aaron running up along the side of the house to leap onto and then over the fence, bypassing Scorpion entirely.

Miles drops the gun as they hit the street on the other side, but he doesn't even hear it fall. It's loud: the crashing of the fight has spread out some, but police cars have blocked both ends of the street. More peel in as Miles looks, every one with lights and sirens blaring, the cops inside scrambling out to find cover and yelling all the while.

Doc Ock skids over them, tall enough to pass over Uncle Aaron's head entirely as she steadies herself on her tentacles. Miles slaps his palm over the override key on his chest as she looks down at them. Her eyebrows draw together, but her tentacles stay on the ground, and Miles remembers that, right, Prowler is supposed to be on her side.

But they're across the street and gone before she can put it together. Uncle Aaron still runs a lot faster than Miles can, longer legs and everything, and so Miles doesn't fight to get down this time. He does make use of his sticky fingers, squirming until Uncle Aaron loosens enough to let him clamber over to his back instead, so he can help again with his webs if he needs to.

It frees up Uncle Aaron's other hand too, and he hauls them both up the next house across the way, bounding away from the fight with Miles along for the trip in the most serious piggy-back ride of his life.

They aren't the only ones—Peni's robot tumbles ahead of them to lead the way, and Gwen and Noir swing past a second later, chasing the same trajectory.

"Follow them," Miles says immediately, relieved that it's not just him running for it. He thumps twice on Uncle Aaron's shoulder and points after the group. "I got a web-shooter. I can swing us too."

"You got a web-shooter," Uncle Aaron repeats, almost flat with disbelief and the mechanical blur, but he angles to follow anyways. "When you got spider powers is what I want to know."

"It's a long story," Miles hedges, awkward now that it's actually time to talk about it, and his uncle snorts.

"Don't you gimme that line," he says, sharp, but then the other spiders are launching up and away from them, leaving the residential rooftops behind for taller commercial buildings.

Miles takes advantage, sticking one hand hard to Uncle Aaron's shoulder and webbing with the other, swinging them both forwards and then up. Uncle Aaron rolls with it, boots kicking in at the height of the swing to send them easily up over the edge of the roof.

"Jesus," he mutters, just barely loud enough for Miles to hear.

"I know, right?" Miles can't help, but yelp, because he isn't so used to this that it doesn't set his heart pounding, and it's Uncle Aaron he's sharing it with now, which is all he's wanted for the last few days, really: advice, a friendly ear, and by now also hey, look at this thing I can do, isn't it cool?

And he'll finally get the chance now, because Uncle Aaron is here, and not trying to kill him, which is...good, it's very, very good, and Miles sucks in a breath and death-grips the cape again, nearly shaking with the force of everything.

"We are gonna have a talk, Miles," Uncle Aaron warns him, though it really sounds more like a promise than a threat. "Soon as we get somewhere safe—"

"I know, Uncle Aaron," Miles agrees, because he's got more than a few questions of his own. He swings them again as they reach the next edge—they're falling behind a bit, mostly running instead of swinging, but Peter circles back a few seconds later, swinging back past and then forward around them.

"You okay, kid?" he yells over the rush of wind, and Miles would give him a thumbs up if his hands weren't otherwise occupied.

"I'm good," he calls back instead. "I'm good, man. Keep going."

Peter doesn't look all that confident in that. He goes, but he keeps an eye on them, glancing back often over his shoulder as he swings, and so Miles does his best to put on enough confidence for the both of them.

Because Miles still has no idea what he's doing, ok? He knows that. He's still wearing this terrible, scratchy costume with only one shooter on his wrists, still has no clue how to turn invisible or shock a man on command. He can't say that he thinks he's ready.

But he's got a job to do.

These spiders are his friends now, full stop, for all that they don't think he's ready either, and he's not gonna let any of them die some painful, horrible death just because he can't figure his own powers out. No way.

So he's gonna make it work. He's got an override key and a promise to keep and now maybe, just maybe, he's got family at his back. And that, Miles decides, is more than enough for him.

Everything else, he'll figure out on the way.