spidermanindie:
It was true that Peter once tested to see if he were faster than a police car. With all the traffic, it was really a no-brainer and the heights he could see at the tops of his arcs as he swung through the air - really, a no-brainer.
But on a day like today with the street they’d been given, these cruisers were practically flying and unfortunately for Peter he didn’t have the greatest night’s sleep, so he was fighting to stay at least a cruiser ahead - that is, until a certain matchstick spurned his inner need to compete, or at least, keep up in this instance. This was Peter’s turf, after all, streets that he’d know better than Johnny know the back of his own hand. It was only right that Peter pulled through. His lower back was going to pay for it later, though.
He laughed in between a breath. “Routine car jacking, Torch, no sweat,” Peter called out at the crest of a swing. “I could do with a cheerleader, though!”
“You think I came all the way out here just to stroke your ego? Get real!” Peter was good, and nobody would be more familiar with the neighborhood than he was, but Johnny was not one to be outdone. Besides, he could fly, dammit. He wasn’t limited to wherever his webs could stick. “If anything, you’re going to be stroking mine.” For a moment, the flames around his body seemed to burn a brighter shade of orange, and those closest to his skin took on a lick of blue at the center. It let him go faster, which also meant just narrowly clipping himself on the edge of a building he twisted at the last moment to avoid. Not that he’d own up to the near miss.
“Oh Torch, nobody can do it like you! Our hero!” He called the words out loudly and pitched his voice just differently enough to be an impersonation of...well, somebody. Some grateful bytander overcome with joy at the sight of the very best Fantastic Four member come in to save their...What had Peter said it was? Their bike?
He looked back toward where the police cruisers were heading and flew up higher to see if any had made it to their destination. One was parked, and he could see an officer speaking to a man who was gesturing with both arms down a different street.
Car. Peter had said car jacking. Johnny had always been a car guy. Loved them. Surely it was fate, then, and now he had to find this one and bring it back. “I should talk to them. People love me.”
