Chapter 48: Can't we just pretend?

                                    

                                          
  Spider-Man really does tend to solve every problem, Peter thought as he swung down from Avengers Tower, the city blowing past him as he webbed his path. The sun was shining pleasantly, heating the skin beneath his suit quite nicely despite the bite in the air. He knew winter was coming, so he made sure to appreciate Spider-Manning in this nice weather just a bit more. 
                          
  But not too soon did his first crime to stop appear. 
                          
  "Help! Someone-! He took my purse!"
                          
  Ah, we love a petty street crime. 
                          
  Peter took course after the accused, swinging rapidly to catch up. He spotted a young woman, with hair bleach-blonde, running after an even younger man with a hoodie pulled tightly over his head. He could be seen fleeing from the woman with a bag clenched beneath his elbow. With one last web, Peter was able to launch himself forward. He released the web and landed right in front of the thief. 
                          
  "Last time i checked, when a woman says 'stop,' it means 'stop,'" Spider-Man quipped, holding out a hand lazily for the purse. "Now, you've had your fun so hand it over."
                          
  The thief glanced behind him at the women rapidly making her way through the thick New York crowd before looking back at the vigilante. "Fuck off, Spider-Brat," he growled and shoved Peter aside. Peter stumbled but regained his composure fast enough to sprint after him.
                          
  The thief ran a few yards before turning off into an alley. Spider-Man followed close behind, ducking in time of his spider sense screaming in his head. A bullet whizzed over his head and he sidestepped another one on his left.
                          
  "Whoa!" Spider-Man cried as he leaped over a dumpster. "I don't think a purse is worth my life, man!"
                          
  The thief ignored him and continued to shoot his way further into the alley. 
                          
  Peter grit his teeth beneath his mask. Dodging knifes was one thing, but bullets? Even with his spidey sense he was cutting it close. 
                          
  Spider-Man somersaulted off the wall, bullets fly by him. His spidey sense was wailing in his head like a constant fire alarm, but he didn't have the time to focus on any one flare. He had to keep moving. 
                          
  The closer he got to the thief though, did his shots get more sporadic. Peter found himself sweating trying to evade them all. He was pushing himself to the limit, adrenaline pumping through his brain like he'd just shot up a drug. Before he knew it, his spidey sense was just a full throb at the base of his neck, masked by the fear and excitement of dodging bullets like raindrops. 
                          
  The vigilante shot a web, the sticky substance making its way through the air to connect with the dainty leather purse clutched in the thief's hand. Spider-Man pulled up on the web, throwing himself backwards into the wal. His feet struck the brick wall, the purse hit his chest, and he scrambled up and over the edge of the building to collapse on the other side. 
                          
  But, with every rush of euphoria, came the crashing sensation of reality. The surge of adrenaline was quick to wear off, leaving a familiar ache in the boy's bones. He pulled in ragged breaths, trying to fight off the exhaustion clawing at the back of his eyelids. He knew he'd been injured-he recognized the feeling of his body shutting down. 
                          
  Peter blinked rapidly behind his mask. He was badly wanted to rip the damn thing off. He craved fresh air. But his arms felt like pillars of lead attached to his shoulders. 
                          
  "Mr. Parker," came Karen's mechanical voice from inside the mask. The sound echoed around In Peter's head, the words coming through sluggishly. "It seems you have been shot in a vital area. You are in critical condition. Calling Boss."