"All units, be advised—we have a 10-80 in progress. Suspects are armed and dangerous. Last seen fleeing westbound on Highway 26 in a black Dodge Charger, plate unknown. The vehicle is occupied by two males, both considered armed. Units in the vicinity, respond Code 3. Air support requested. Use extreme caution—shots have already been fired. Suspects are not stopping." The dispatcher's voice crackled through my earpiece.
I glanced to my side, where Peter—mask off—was casually munching a slice of pizza, entirely unbothered.
"You gonna take care of that?" I asked, raising a brow, arms crossed as I leaned dangerously over the edge of the building.
"With the tall and mighty you in town? I'm on vacation, baby," he replied, cool as ever.
I laughed. I'd missed moments like this, just like when we first started out. Without another word, I stepped off the edge, falling fast toward the ground. Right before impact, I shot forward, my red cape billowing behind me.
"You know, it's not exactly friendly to leave work for others," I said over the coms, rapidly closing in on the fleeing vehicle.
"Are you sure?" he replied mid-chew. "From where I'm standing, I'm being responsible—letting the all-powerful Vanguard handle things efficiently and safely." Then I heard the familiar swoosh of him free-falling, followed by the iconic thwip of his web-shooters. "Also, I'm busy saving a beautiful lady from a would-be mugger." He cut the coms.
With a sigh and a smile, I lowered myself to the window of the speeding Charger and tapped gently. The driver looked over, recognized me instantly, and made the brilliant choice of trying to ram me.
Spoiler alert: didn't work.
The car would've spiraled out of control if I hadn't caught it mid-spin and lifted the damn thing over my head until the driver finally stopped pressing the gas. Only then did I set it down gently and walk to the driver's window.
"License and registration please," I said with a grin.
He responded by firing a 12-gauge shotgun at my face.
"Really?"
Needless to say, they gave themselves up after that. I flew off before the cops could reach me—either to ask for autographs or to try arresting me for my many so-called "crimes."