Leon circled that black steel behemoth three times.
The tires reached his waist, the armor was thick enough to deflect rockets, and the engine growled like a caged beast.
He reached out to touch the carbon fiber texture at the door seams, his fingertips feeling a cold, aloof, and smooth sensation.
The look in one’s eyes when they love someone cannot be hidden.
The look in one’s eyes when they love a car cannot be hidden either.
If he could own a Spider-mobile of his own, Leon would be willing to drive luxury cars and live in a mansion.
“Hey, buddy, this passenger seat looks pretty spacious.”
Batman was walking toward the driver’s seat, his cape fluttering in the night wind, and he didn’t stop.
“How about a lift?” Leon patted the spider emblem on his chest.
“We’re in the same line of work.”
Batman pulled open the car door.
The engine started, and the roar exploded across the empty street like a prehistoric beast having its tail stepped on.
Leon dodged half a step to the side.
“I’ll take your silence as consent.”
A strand of Spider-web stuck to the rear wing.
His entire body was yanked into the air, flipping over as he scrambled onto the roof with all fours, like a barnacle clinging to a whale’s back.
The car surged forward.
Wind rushed into his mouth like a blower being shoved down his throat.
Leon wanted to say something, like complaining about the car’s suspension or asking what grade of fuel Batman used, but as soon as he opened his mouth, his lips were blown flapping against his teeth, which stung.
He buried his face behind his arms and began to keep a mental tally.
—At current gas prices, how much does this car burn per kilometer?
—Conservative estimate: enough to feed me for three days.
—That’s the fourth day now.
—Just passed that traffic light, another three days.
—Great, a whole week gone.
Is this the world of the rich?
Even the exhaust smells like burning US dollars.
Alright, he was starting to feel a bit resentful of the wealthy.
Intense gunfire erupted ahead.
Bullets clattered against the car body like falling rain.
Leon shrunk his neck, feeling like an ant on a tin can while someone outside was banging on it with a spoon.
Batman leaped out of the speeding car.
To be precise, the door popped open, and a black shadow darted from the driver’s seat, completing a perfect tactical roll in mid-air and taking down three men upon landing.
Every punch landed solidly, the movements as clean as if measured with a ruler.
Yeah, very cool, very showy.
It seemed there were no major villains for the little spider to defeat alongside Batman.
There were only small-time thugs here.
Leon jumped down from the roof, landing next to a half-collapsed brick wall.
A man was pinned under the corner, his thigh trapped by a precast concrete slab, howling in the kind of crude profanity that was a Gotham specialty.
Leon lifted the half-ton slab with one hand and used the other to shoot several loops of Spider-web around the man’s wound, tying a knot.
“Don’t move, this stuff works better than bandages, trust me, I have practical experience.”
The man hissed in pain.
“Though when it comes off, it might give you a permanent waxing as a bonus.”
The man rolled his eyes and fainted.
Leon dragged him to a safe area and continued to weave through the battlefield.
Moving the wounded, stopping bleeding, and using Spider-web to stick smoking explosives into empty corners.
His movements were crisp and efficient, as if he had done this ten thousand times.
Not far away, Batman was slamming a burly man who had tried to flank him into the ground. This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
The dull thud of the man’s back hitting the pavement made Leon feel the pain even from twenty meters away.
Batman looked up.
Leon was hoisting an unconscious civilian onto his shoulder.
The two of them gazed at each other through the chaotic firelight for a second.
Neither spoke.
Batman didn’t speak because he didn’t like to talk.
The spider didn’t speak because he thought the guy opposite him looked cool being so cold, so he wanted to act cold and look cool too.
Batman turned, his cape whipping in a sharp arc as he charged toward the next source of gunfire.
Leon shot a strand of Spider-web, swinging himself behind cover on the other side and picking up a dazed old man along the way.
And so, a tacit understanding was established.
No tactical hand signals, no comms channels, no ‘three o’clock’ or ‘I’m flanking the backline.’
Batman tore things down, and Leon moved people.
Batman created a mess, and Leon handled the cleanup.
One was responsible for the violence, the other for the aftermath.
Neither consulted the other, yet neither got in the other’s way.
Leon dragged out three more wounded and took a moment to glance over at Batman.
Batman was hauling a guy in a suit toward a second-floor balcony.
The man’s limbs were flailing, his tie was twisted to the back of his head, and he was shouting something incoherent.
Batman held him suspended with one hand over the balcony railing, with half the man’s body hanging out.
Leon hung upside down from the ceiling, slowly lowering himself to the man’s eye level.
“Hey.”
The man let out a scream.
“Don’t be so nervous,” Leon swayed like a human pendulum.
“Look, you have two choices. One: stay at this height and enjoy the night view of Gotham. Two: tell us what your boss has been busy with lately.”
As he spoke, he used his Spider-web to snag a scattered magazine from the ground and tossed it to Batman in the distance, who looked like he might need ammo, even though he definitely didn’t.
Batman caught the magazine, didn’t look at it, and threw it away immediately.
Fine, if you don’t need it, you don’t need it.
“For example,” Leon leaned closer to the poor wretch, “is Roman planning a big party? ‘Gotham Mask Carnival’ or something? I’m guessing he didn’t invite you to be the host?”
The low-level thug looked at Leon, then at the straight drop of seven or eight meters behind him, and his lips began to tremble.
Batman’s arm didn’t move an inch.
“I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”
The thug’s collar tightened a bit more.
“The Old Industrial District! The Abandoned Mask Factory! Roman stockpiled a shipment of weapons; he’s going to blow up Wayne Tower tomorrow night! I swear I’m telling the truth! I saw them packing at least thirty rockets into crates with my own eyes; I was the one in charge of the log! Warehouse Four! Four! Truly!”
Leon whistled.
“See, isn’t this better? Saves time and effort, everyone’s happy. Remember to buy some throat lozenges when you get back; your voice is completely shot.”
Batman abruptly threw the man back onto the balcony.
The thug hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, curling into a ball and shaking uncontrollably.
Batman turned to leave.
Leon flipped down from the ceiling and quickly caught up.
“So.”
Batman didn’t stop.
“Going together?”
Batman kept walking.
Batman stopped.
Leon thought he was about to say something and quickly rubbed his hands together.
Batman spoke, his voice low: “I’m leaving this place to you.”
“What?”
“Police arrive in three minutes.”
“Wait a minute,” Leon pointed to his own chest, “you’re telling me to stay behind and clean up your mess?”
Batman was already three steps away.
“You have a good sense of restraint.”
“What kind of lame reason is that? Is that even the point?”
Batman didn’t say another word.
He raised his hand to press a remote on his gauntlet, and the batmobile parked at the corner let out a low start-up sound, like a steel beast being awakened.
Leon stood there, watching that dark silhouette merge into the night.
He looked at the batmobile, then at Batman.
Then at the batmobile again.
“Having good gear must be nice,” Leon gritted his teeth in annoyance.
“I’d like to see you try it without GPS.”
No one responded.
Only the streetlights hummed overhead.
Leon took a deep breath and turned to face the mess scattered everywhere.
Dozens of mobsters were lying haphazardly in the ruins, some groaning, some cursing, and some spitting at their comrades next to them.
After raising his hand to seal the mouth of the guy spitting on his partner with some Spider-web, he began to work.
He knocked out those who were still shouting one by one.
Then he used his Spider-web to bundle everyone into a row, neat and tidy, like cans on a supermarket shelf.
To ensure they wouldn’t add to the burden on Commissioner Gordon’s ears when they woke up, Leon stuffed a ball of Spider-web into each of their mouths.
A big guy who wasn’t fully unconscious struggled, trying to spit it out.
“Don’t bother,” Leon crouched in front of him.
“I adjusted the formula; it’s the extra-sticky version. It’ll dissolve on its own in about two hours. Or maybe three, depending on the humidity.”
Leon stood up, patted the dust off his hands, and scanned his handiwork.
Dozens of burly men were tied up tight, toes off the ground, hanging neatly under the sign of the cafe’s outer wall.
From afar, they looked like a row of white cocoons.
Up close, it looked like performance art.
Leon pulled a crumpled sticky note from his pocket, leaned against the wall to write a few lines, and stuck it in the most prominent spot.
On it was a scribbled drawing of a matchbox-sized batmobile with a round little spider on the roof, grinning with a row of teeth.
Next to it was a line of text:
“No need to thank me, just call me the Little Spider of Justice. That gentleman who never lets anyone in his passenger seat has already left; his share of the credit belongs to me too.”
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Leon shot a strand of Spider-web and swung himself onto the opposite rooftop.
He crouched at the edge of the terrace and saw Commissioner Gordon getting out of a car with a team of officers.
The commissioner froze for two seconds, took off his glasses to wipe them, put them back on, and finally sighed—a sigh Leon could hear from half a block away.
Leon chuckled, patted the dust off his rear, and vanished into the night.
His mind was already writing the headline for tomorrow’s report.
“Shocking! Why Does Batman Travel Alone at Night? Empty Passenger Seat Suspected to be Due to Rising Fuel Prices”.
The roof was so hard; I’m not clinging to it next time.
Never again, even if it kills me.
Leon rubbed his still-shaking calves and swung toward the next rooftop.
What a joke!
You think just because you told me not to go, I won’t go?