For several seconds, he didn’t open his eyes. His body felt heavy. His mouth was dry. There was a deep ache spreading through his ribs, and something sharp throbbed behind his left eye.

Hospital.

Peter opened his eyes. White ceiling. Fluorescent lights. An IV taped to the back of his hand.

Great.

He turned his head carefully. Nobody.

Then he remembered. The gunshot. The flash of a muzzle. The sudden heat tearing through his side. His grip slipping as he swung between buildings, followed by the brutal impact of hitting concrete.

After that, nothing.

Peter lifted a hand toward his face. No mask. He froze. His fingers touched bare skin.

His mind immediately produced a list of increasingly terrible possibilities. Police. Paramedics. Doctors. Nurses.

Fantastic.

He tried to sit up. Pain exploded through his side.

The door opened.