“I can’t fault you for having noble goals.” He says it morosely. Miguel has had similar discussions a dozen times over with other Spiders with delusions of going against the flow of fate, and it never ends well.

“There are some things that just worsen the more you fight against the current. Sometimes the best option is damage control, and having the will to come to terms with that. How I personally feel about it really doesn’t matter, either way.”

And that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Erasing imperfections. Maintaining the web, preserving the flow of the canon as best as he could. In the end, it was just patching up what was already there, and the hope for actually improving things had all but extinguished. How could he even think to toy with that when the stakes were so high?

Along with the guilt, the blame, and the anger, the sense of resignation had all concocted a noxious cocktail of misery that floated him from day to day.

He sits there, expression blank, feeling it all wash over him unpleasantly. Where was he going with this, anyway?

“It’s not how I wish things worked, but it’s how they are.”