The Eyes of New York

Resolve

Miles dove for Sandman, fist aimed for his face. In an explosion of sand, half his face was gone. But he was still smiling - grinning, even. Miles went to yank his hand back, but the hole closed up and reformed like nothing had happened.

Oh no.

"Fisk has had about enough of you, kid," Sandman said, his body shifting. Instead of Miles being caught around his face, he moved up so Miles's fist was in his chest instead. Miles brought his legs up, trying to put more force into escaping, but all it did was send jarring pain up his arm.

"If he had actually held-" he grunted in pain, losing his train of thought- "-held his end of the deal, I wouldn't have to go after him!"

Sandman began to move around him, sand pillaring up and creating a wall around him. His spider-sense started ringing in his ears, buzzing and disorientating as it grew increasingly insistent. He was being boxed in, the New York landscape disappearing from sight. "You and I both know that's a lie. You would have gone after his empire, regardless of any deals."

He wasn't wrong. "So, what now? What are you trying to do?"

A face appeared before him, just as the sand under his feet gave in and began swallowing them too. "I'll give you one out, kid. Pack your little onesie and get out of New York. Otherwise, I'll have to kill you."

Half his left arm had disappeared and the sand was halfway up his calves too. The sand kept on shifting in time with his movements, keeping him firmly trapped in place. His spider-sense offered no assurances either: Sandman meant his threat.

He was going to be suffocated to death. Sandman was offering him an out, but there was no way he could trust him. This was out of his pay scale, and there wasn't going to be a Daredevil to save him this time.

He needed more time to figure out how to escape.

"Why are those the only two options?" Miles asked, stalling. He forced himself to relax, no longer attempting to tug himself free.

Sandman gave him an inquisitive look. "I'm offering you the chance to leave New York out of mercy. Really, I'm meant to be killing you right now. Fisk's orders."

Fisk. It was always Fisk.

"What, so you expect me to walk away after you and him killed my family?" he exploded, the overwhelming grief loosening his tongue before he could restrain the outburst. He knew he had to try and keep a level head and think his way out but- "They were everything to me!"

"Killed? Kid, I mean, I tried-" The sand shifted, loosening as if Sandman was crumbling under guilt. He took the chance.

Bending backward, he shot a web at the ground with his one free arm. Wrapping it around his forearm in one smooth motion, he used it as an anchor point to drag himself out of the sand. Tucking his head in close, he hit the ground in a roll before springing back up and smashing through a weak point in the wall.

He took off running, preserving his webs. Racking his brain didn't provide any clues for how to beat him. He was being reckless, facing an enemy he didn't know how to take down. If he failed, he would be suffocated to death. No pressure.

It was a guy made out of sand - sand! No organs, no body to hit, only millions of tiny pieces of rock that had broken down over time.

He ducked around a corner and climbed up a building, scarcely looking back even as he heard a frustrated yell from Sandman and saw a car sail through the air, crashing on the street he had just been on. He was going the wrong way if he wanted to face Fisk, but Mr. Bodyguard over here wasn't going to let him get through.