Foreman 1

Today was the absolute worst moment, of the absolute worst day, of the absolute worst year of my life. 'Why?' you'd ask. Well, I'll tell you! As a grown man, Very few things can top finding out my little girl, the last legacy of the love of my life, had been suffering for months—if not years—before I could even notice. I certainly wouldn't be winning any Father-of-the-Year awards in this life.

'But, Danny,' you might tell me. 'You found out in the end, so now you can start making amends. That's what's important, right?' Well, that might have been true, if not for the fact that my first inkling of the troubles my daughter was having came when a member of Brockton Bay's finest knocked on my door, hat tucked respectfully under his arm.

...side by side with a medical first responder whose suspiciously clean, yet ill-fitted jacket couldn't hide the dark stains against his shirt and pants beneath it.

...both of whom were backed up by a grief counselor.

Truth be told, I don't remember too much of the period that immediately followed. There might have been drinking involved; some quiet moments of contemplating the nature of the universe as presented by several litres of fuck-it-I-didn't-need-those-braincells-anyhow-elixir. There may have been an arrest or two for disturbing the peace. After all, I've been told that I am a man with a terrific temper.

Actually, the arrest thing might have actually happened. There was a paper trail left after Kurt had to bail me out.

But, I digress. One might think that moment would have been the worst day of my life, but that was apparently just a preview for today. Although the idea that you could be the last surviving member of your family might be the absolute rock-bottom one could reach, life likes to throw even more curve balls in the form of thirty-foot tall monstrosities the rest of the world thinks will inevitably destroy all civilisation as we know it.

So… yeah, there was that. It also didn't help that the warning came too late for me secure myself in one of the varied shelters that had been built for this very occasion. So much for one located within easy running distance no matter where an everyday citizen could possibly find themselves.

Note to future-self: if I survive, never take another casual stroll around Downtown because apparently Fortress-fucking-Construction doesn't have any of their own fucking products near their own offices.

So, to get back to the situation at hand, there's an Endbringer on the rampage. I'm exposed on the streets where random collateral damage can and will sweep up a grown man in a wave of debris—literally, in case you were wondering. Now I'm trapped beneath a web of steel and concrete that I have no hope of escaping on my own, leaving me at the mercy of the elements (of which I have been told that water, particularly, has none of) or for the heroes to win the day and then remember to dig me out before I succumb to exposure.

Meanwhile, I must content myself with the knowledge that the way my life has been going lately, it couldn't possibly get any worse. I mean, sure, I might be dead within the next few hours but really, would that be a terribly bad thing? If there is a God in heaven then I might have the chance to reunite with my family once more. Even if they hated me for being the worst father in recent memory, I could see them again. I would share manly tears with my dearly departed wife. I would apologise profusely to my daught—holy fuck what is that?

Something is creeping along the rubble outside my little hideaway. I'm going to refer to my surroundings as such because it allows me to pretend I put myself here on purpose, and for a reason. Because I am a responsible man who does responsible things.

I am not responsible, however, for invasions to my hideaway from something Not Human, which I am desperately hoping is not Leviathan. At least I'm fairly certain it is not him because I don't think his legs are that skinny. But then I can't imagine who does have legs that thin. Unless some of the capes in this city walk on stilts for legs. I mean, there's the possibility of one from out of the area who volunteered—bless their suicidal little hearts—to fight against an Endbringer on stilts. Or has a power that requires them to be propped up on said stilts?

Or a group of heroes… that are all wearing stilts. In a very close formation. For some reason?

…You know what? Let's just go with that. Also, given the fact that there's so many out of towners, there's a better-than-even chance that this newcomer could be somewhat friendly. It's certainly better than my original plan of drowning my sorrows away. Literally, in this case.

"…help," I heard a broken, scratchy voice call out. It sounded somewhat pathetic and I had a moment of sympathy for the poor, scared bastard who was trapped—hiding—down here with me, until I realised that the poor bastard is me. Oh well. In for a penny… "I'm down… down here."

The legs stopped stilting across the opening and a shape dropped down to block out the incoming light. The moment I saw the silhouette I wanted to scream at the moron who drew its attention. It's not a group of heroes, not even a group of capes. It's a single, relatively bulky thing with the pair of stilts I saw before skittering around until I can see that it is joined by six more of them to either side of the mass. Two of the stilts raised themselves out of view and a moment later one particularly large piece of rubble was hurled out of view, exposing a large, white surface. In the brief moment of light I saw eyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyesEYESEYES before the… creature scuttled inside and somewhere to the side, disappearing from view in a blur.

I couldn't see it anymore, but I could certainly hear it. Soft ticks like toothpicks falling to the floor. Dull shifting noises of loose sand sliding across a surface. High-pitched whimpering from that terrified man who wouldn't shut up and keep from giving my position away to that thing.

Trapped as I am, with only my head free to move, I was a captive audience for the pale head that suddenly loomed out from the darkness above me. It's very… 'buggy,' is the best word I can think of. From the many legs i saw outside I'd call it a spider, but it looks like no spider I've ever seen. Two large eyes (eyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyes) dominate most of its face, with several smaller pairs scattered around the sides and centre of the head. Dark markings ring the largest pair—almost owl-like when compared to the rest—and stretch off to the sides. If I were in a quipping mood, I'd joke that I'd just found the nerdiest spider I'd ever seen.

The jaws of the spider looked almost… normal. As in an actual jaw rather than those pointy, mashy, stabby things you see in most nature guides for bugs and insects. They remained closed for the most part but through small gaps that open up as that mouth rapidly opens and closes as if the monster were teeth-chatteringly cold or hyperventilating, I could see two small sharp appendages to either side, like tiny internal fangs.

Oh, and it was very large. If you're wondering how I could see this much detail it's because the thing's eyes are about large as my hand. I knew this because my hand was currently pinned down beneath some rebar and my finger was close enough to brush against the car… carpal… the skin just under said eye. Going by that reference, the rest of the head must've be almost larger than my torso. This spider was… quite large.

The front two legs, which I saw to be a bit thicker and a lot more pointed than the rest of its limbs, were larger still. And—as a large slab of rock separating us is abruptly divided in half before me—also appeared to be quite sharp… and moving closer to my pinned body.

And closer… and closer still.

A small corner of my mind noticed that the very scared gentleman trapped here with me had been reduced to gibbering squeaks. The poor, scared bastard.


So, I'm a Spider. Flat, 'What?'

a Worm/蜘蛛ですが何か crossover

by throwaawy