You've got the wrong number

14 - i ****ing knew it

I thought it was going to be just another day of patrolling. I was so wrong. 

As I sat on the top of a building, I did my best to drown out the sounds of honking cars and just focus on finding a particular sound. My spidey sense kicked in about two seconds before I heard the voice. 

"Give me all your money." Damn. Muggers. Again.

"You know, people rarely carry cash around anymore," I say as a look down on the very scared young man. "Most places take credit cards now. Even the vending machines at school are taking ApplePay. It's not a very smart move."

"I'm not going to take advice from a bug." 

"Actually I'm an arachnid," I say and see the young man running off. Good. First crisis averted. Step 2, teach this guy a lesson. 

"Same thing." This guy says and points the gun at me. "You think you're going to win in a fight against me?"

"Um- Yeah," I say. "You guys always underestimate me." I quickly shoot a web at his feet, wrapping around his ankles. "Why does that always happen?" I ask. "Don't you guys have like- a muggers convention, just like ComicCon?" the next web goes to his gun, which I make sure is sealed way out of his reach. Webs respectively go to his chest and arms, pushing him up against the wall of the alley. 

"Why is it always the dark, gross alleys?" I question. "Why can't you do it in a clean one?" I ask, my senses still going off, but that's normal after a fight. 

"Take that, bug." I hear and spin around just quickly enough to get see him fire a smaller gun, right into my stomach. 

"Damn, again?" I ask, shooting the second gun away and sealing his hands down too. I'll leave him for the police. I think as I scale the side of the building. 

Can't go to the hospital. They'd reveal my identity so quickly. I never replenished the first aid kit after the last time I got shot, so the apartment is out of the question. The sound of Clint's voice suddenly pops into my head. "You can come to me Peter, no matter what." Well, this definitely qualifies as an emergency. I think and swing across town,  the feeling of blood and pain just filling up my stomach. 

I barely make it up to the plane hangar when I hear a female voice "I'm alerting the Avengers." She says, and sure enough, about a minute later, I hear pounding footsteps and someone running over and kneeling beside me. 

"I can't breathe, I can't breathe." I gasp, clutching my chest. The mask. I can't breathe through the mask.

"You're okay, you're gonna be okay." Clint coaxes. "Deep breaths."

I yank off the mask and the fresh air is a relief. I continue to gasp, staring at that one bolt on the floor, because, Oh my god, I just revealed my identity. 

"Peter?" No one has ever looked at me the way he was. "Peter." He gasped, cupping my head in his hand. "You're going to be okay." He turns to the door, where someone, I couldn't quite make out, my vision was already going blurry. "Bruce!" He yells. "Bruce, I need some help!" 

"I'm here." A voice I could only recognize from the youtube videos my science teacher assigns us to watch for extra credit. "Get him onto the gurney, and hold pressure on the wound." I felt a world of pain when someone, probably Clint lifted me up and onto what I presume to be the gurney. I wouldn't know, I can't really see. 

"Let's get him onto the table and hang some morphine. Gunshots hurt." A figure leans over me, and I can only tell it's Bruce because the outline of his glasses is one of the most distinguishing features on his blurry face. "What's your blood type?"