As we emerged from the dense patch of clouds, city lights sprawled out before us. The plane was losing altitude at an alarming rate.
Thinking fast, Peter shot a web onto the flap of the plane's wing, pulling it up to cause the aircraft to turn harshly. I swooped down and pushed up the plane's wing from beneath, straining both upwards and forwards.
Somehow, the plane began turning.
"Head for the beach!" I yelled, though I wasn't sure Peter could even hear me over the sound of the wind and failing engines.
The Vulture was still inside the mangled piece of metal trying to abscond with a case of alien tech.
Flying up to the roof once more, I yanked Peter from the aircraft just before the plane hit the sand. And it hit hard, narrowly missing civilization, taking out a tower of Coney Island.
The flaming mass of debris slid to a stop, sending up a cloud of black smoke along the coast.
I set Peter down on the ground. He pulled off his mask, taking a deep breath.
As soon as my feet touched the sand, I found my legs to have the strength of jelly.
I tipped back onto my rear, my ears ringing.
A break. I just wanted a break.
I took a shaky breath inwards, feeling the angry pulse around my stitches, the soreness gathering in my wings from keeping up with a plane.
Just as Peter stooped down to help me, he was knocked into by the Vulture, who was somehow still flying, talons out.
Peter flipped backwards, head over feet before he landed harshly in the sand.
"Peter!" I yelled. My voice was hoarse, smoke was gathering in my lungs and eyes.
But Peter got up again.
I figured I should do the same.
The Vulture floored it towards Peter who rolled out of the way. Coming back around for a second strike, the Vulture pinned Peter to the ground under his metal talons.
My adrenaline picking back up again, I quickly grabbed a piece of debris from the ground and took flight.
Peter screamed as the metal claws dug into him.
The Vulture raised his fist. I grabbed it with my bare hand, holding back the suit. Using the piece of plane I had picked up, I cracked the Vulture across the face, breaking one of the green glowing eyes.
The man didn't release his hold on Peter, instead taking him up into the air within his claws. I flew upward after them.
The Vulture dropped Peter, but before I could even think to catch him, Peter shot out a web, bungeeing himself down to the ground.
The Vulture spun around in the air, one of his massive metal wings knocking me in the chest, sending me out of the air and onto the ground.
Ouch.
I had landed on my chest, my face gathering sand.
To my surprise, the Vulture flew over Peter, instead focused on something else. A large box in the rubble was still somewhat intact. The man grabbed it with his talons and hoisted it skyward, all the while his wing suit sparked and sputtered unnaturally.
"Your wing suit," Peter breathed. "Your wing suit's gonna explode!" He lifted his weary arm and shot a web onto the box. Grinding his feet into the sand, Peter held on.
Slowly I pushed myself up into a kneel. I was missing a few feathers as some of the ends had burned away.
"Time to go home, Pete," said the man, the box still in his grasp.
"I'm trying to save you!" Peter yelled, straining against the web.
Using a wing, the web was cut. Just as he got off the ground, the Vulture dropped from the sky along with his wing suit, an explosion consuming him.
I cursed under my breath, forcing myself into a weak stand.
Peter ran after him, into the flames.
Using one more flap of my wings, I took to the sky. The smoke burned my lungs as I flew, each flap causing more to billow into my eyes.
"There!" I coughed, pointing to a body in the rubble.
Peter ran through the flames and hoisted the body of his shoulder, carrying the man out of the fire.
I practically dropped out of the sky, hitting the beach, exhausted and ridden with smoke inhalation.
"Eve!" Peter realized, pulling me away from a pile of flaming debris I had narrowly missed. He had already set down the villain he had saved who looked practically unconscious. "Are you okay?"
"Let's . . . go home," I breathed, feeling every pound of my heart.
"You look like you need a hospital," Peter said, kneeling down to my level.
"Yeah," I grunted. "That'll be on the way."
"Let me just uh, string up the bad guy first," he said. "Hey, do you have a pen?"
I frowned, my mouth open half in disbelief, half in pain.
After gathering up all of the Stark cases that he could find, Peter webbed up the Vulture and left a note stuck to the pile: "FOUND FLYING VULTURE GUY - SPIDER-MAN. P.S. SORRY ABOUT YOUR PLANE."
Peter took my arm and threw it over his shoulder to support me as we made our way towards the city in search of a hospital.
"You think you'll have to miss more school?" Peter asked.
"Nah."