Reconcile › P. Parker [2]

020. post credit

A small early 2000s car raced through the streets of New York City, a police car chasing behind them, their lights flashing and their audio system demanding for the car theft to pull over. To no surprise, the car thief didn't listen. Spider-Man swung above the streets while Aureate flew ahead of the stolen automobile in search of a safe opening to stop and stop the man. He knew it was only a matter of time until the man's reckless driving caused an accident and hit an innocent bystander.

When he turned a right into a narrow street, devoid of New Yorkers, Raleigh dived down. He eased on his thrusters, and a few feet ahead of where the car was racing, Raleigh's feet slammed onto the ground. His knee's burned from the landing, but he faced his attention on the car in front of him.

For a split second, Raleigh caught sight of the man inside the driver's seat before he thrust his arms forward, and their sights were blocked from one another by glaring gold. The color trailed over the front of the car, seizing it and securing the front wheels in place. Raleigh's feet slid across the asphalt and his left shoulder cracked, striking pain under his skin and across his side. He bit his lip (drawing blood) until the pressure subsided and the car came to a full forced stop.

Inside the car, the thief pushed off the steering wheel. Blood gushed from his (now curved) nose. He groaned and opened the driver's side door, tumbling out of it and onto the mostly bare streets. His head rolled, looking for the culprit that stopped his stolen car. He stopped when his eyes met with a smiling ravenet superhero.

"Hello!" Aureate waved with his right hand, a beaming grin lighting the area. He pointed to the white car beside the guy, noticing the red and blue lights nearing. "Did you steal that car, sir?"

The man glowered at the golden hero and felt around in his back pocket for his gun. He drew out the small silver weapon, the barrel of the gun raising to aim at Raleigh, and instead of being frightened, the teenager just sighed.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Before the man could do anything to Raleigh, the hand holding the gun was suddenly grasped by something sticky and was yanked upward. The gun slipped out of his hand and fell to the asphalt, and the man's other hand was also grabbed in the same sticky material. His body sailed off the ground, and Raleigh watched as he bounced between the two buildings.

Spider-Man crawled on a thin web from one building to the next and narrowed his eyes on the alarmed and frankly upset criminal. Peter tutted under the mask and shook his head. "You shouldn't steal things, Mr. Criminal Man. Have fun in prison!"

The red and black hero swung away, and Aureate followed him as the cop car arrived and skidded to a stop behind the stollen vehicle, gawking at the strung-up criminal.

A minute later, after flying through the streets of New York City, Raleigh turned off his boot thrusters and landed harshly onto the roof of a small pharmacy building facing Madison Square Garden. He scratched at his shoulder, his face pulled tightly into a pained expression. The tape that Trystan had helped him put on his shoulder was supposed to keep the muscles and everything still, but he ignored Trystan's one request of keeping weights from crashing into his arms, so it hadn't done anything. And now the tape had slipped off of his sweaty skin, and the strain was tearing at his muscles.

"Your shoulder?" Peter asked.

"Yeah..." Raleigh nodded and dropped his hand. He looked down at the civilians and tourists walking around. A few, mostly older children, pointed up at him and Spider-Man, gawking and yelling at their exhausted parents about the two superheroes. Since they could see his mouth, Raleigh smiled at them and gave a little wave. He looked back at Peter and narrowed his eyes. "I swear, Peter Parker, if you tell me to lay low because of my shoulder, I'm going to throw you into a brick wall."