If Love Were Expressed in Words

Batman ignored his trash talk.

He pressed his right hand against his belt.

Click.

The door slid up and sideways, and the smell of premium leather mixed with coolant flooded Chen Mo's mask.

A passenger seat sat securely beside the driver's seat, its leather gleaming and still smelling faintly of glue, utterly out of place among the surrounding battle-scarred instrument panels.

Chen Mo stood beside the door, stunned for a full two seconds.

"That's more like it."

Muttering under his breath, Chen Mo climbed in a little stiffly. The moment his backside touched the cushion, his whole body sank into it.

This felt leagues better than the rotten plank bed in his leaky attic.

He felt the leather cushion, then looked at the bank of displays glowing with cold light.

It had an adjustable headrest and a four-point harness, nothing like the metal frame he had scavenged from a scrapyard.

Spider-Man, who had spent the past two days rummaging through dumpsters for trash... pfft! For red algae and reusable machinery, was experiencing a tremendous shock right now.

I hate capitalists.

"Did you feel sorry for me after last time and weld this in when you got back? I'm touched."

Batman pulled down a control lever.

"Sit tight."

The engine's roar erupted through the warehouse.

"When I said you should say a few more words, I didn't mean just two, okay?"

The Batmobile lunged forward like an enraged black panther. Inertia pressed Chen Mo into his seat, and the backrest happened to support the section of his spine he had knocked when jumping down from the shipping container.

He kept talking as he searched everywhere for the seat belt.

"Slow down! This thing launches like it's on a launch rail. I didn't notice riding on the roof last time. Didn't realize it pushed you back this hard inside."

Did this car actually have seat belts?

Did the Batmobile even need seat belts?

Whoa, it really did!

Having finally found the seat belt, Chen Mo did not lock it firmly into place. He only lightly engaged the buckle, making sure he could release it at any moment.

After spending so long on Gotham's streets, it was hard to entrust his life entirely to someone else's brake pads.

Even if that someone was Batman.

Batman steered with one hand while swiping rapidly across the tactical screen with the other. Red dots blinked on the map.

"Black Mask's main force is swallowing up Falcone's last few outer strongholds. Hold the perimeter. Don't let anyone escape."

Chen Mo turned his head to watch the rapidly streaming data, his mouth still going.

"Doesn't looking at that while driving make you dizzy? Just watching makes my eyes swim. There's so much information I can see that it's a little overwhelming."

His mouth kept running, but his eyes stayed fixed on Batman's movements like a scanner.

The map zoom shortcuts were on the left, the infrared thermal imaging toggle was at the bottom right, and that triangle was the target marker.

He silently committed them to memory.

"You could consider upgrading your goggles."

"What?" Chen Mo froze again.

The Batmobile passed beneath an abandoned railway bridge, its body jostling slightly over the uneven road.

The tires rolled over several empty shell casings, sending them bouncing against the undercarriage with crisp metallic clinks.

"But when exactly did you add this seat? It definitely wasn't here last time. You really went back and modified it specially?"

Batman still said nothing. He merely pressed harder on the accelerator. The engine's low-frequency vibrations filled the cabin.

He did not understand the point of asking a question whose answer was obvious at a glance.

Chen Mo leaned against the backrest, his chatter finally stopping for a moment. Outside the window, Gotham's lights blurred into a hazy yellow glow in the fog.

He remembered lying on this car's roof last time, with wind pouring into his mask and whipping his tender little face until it hurt.

He had felt sorry for that face of his, so handsome it could shake heaven and earth and move ghosts and gods to tears.

Now it was quiet inside the car.

Chen Mo shifted into a more comfortable position and lightly tugged the seat belt buckle, as casually as if he were trying out a subway seat.

He turned his head to glance at Batman.

That profile showed no expression beneath the instrument panel's cold light. The edge of the bandage on his left shoulder was already soaked with blood, but the hand gripping the steering wheel was as steady as if it had been welded there.

Chen Mo looked away and, for once, said nothing.

He really had talked a little too much. His throat hurt.

Peak human. Absolutely peak.

It was hard to imagine that the other man really was human, the kind without superpowers.

The Batmobile suddenly swung its rear end around and charged into a dark alley. Dense flashes of gunfire flickered wildly ahead, and the sparks of bullets striking an iron door were especially glaring in the darkness.

"We're here."

Chen Mo sprang out the instant the door slid open.

While still airborne, he had already aimed both wrists at the buildings on either side of the alley. Webbing wove a dense net through the air, instantly sealing off the escape route on the left.

He did not stop upon landing. Pushing off the wall with his toes, he used the momentum to flip up onto the roof.

"Hey, guys down there! Ever heard of workplace safety? Play with fire in the middle of the night and your grandma will kick your asses!"

Both hands frantically worked his web-shooters.

In just over ten seconds, all three alleys and both rear entrances around the stronghold were sealed tight.

The webbing gleamed a very faint yellow in the moonlight. That came from the industrial adhesive he had added after improving the formula, making it twice as tough as ordinary webbing once dry.

The last False Face Society member attempting to escape on a motorcycle crashed into the web, bike and all.

The front wheel became entangled, and the entire motorcycle flipped through the air. The recoil flung its rider back to the ground, where he struggled like a fly trapped in plastic wrap, his face bright red.

"Stop struggling. The more you struggle, the tighter it gets."

The man kept struggling, and the webbing tightened further.

"Why won't you believe me, you silly kid?"

Crouching on the rooftop, Chen Mo scanned every sealed entrance and exit below, confirming that no one had slipped through. Then he glanced toward the cockpit. The engine was still running, and the Batmobile sat quietly in the shipping containers' shadows like a giant beast lying in wait.

A sudden burst of heavy gunfire came from the stronghold. It was not aimed at him; it was inside. Batman had already gone in.

Chen Mo flipped down from the roof and moved quickly along the alley wall. Webbing kept shooting from his fingertips, weaving one barricade after another behind him. He kept talking, his voice lowered until only he could hear it.

"Three, four. The perimeter's completely sealed. Not even a fly could get out."

Several dull impacts came from deep inside the stronghold, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Immediately afterward, a second-floor window burst open from inside. A False Face Society member leaned halfway out, gripping a submachine gun and spraying wildly outside.

Bullets struck the brick wall across the alley, sending chips flying. Chen Mo twisted aside to dodge, then shot a web backward onto the barrel and yanked hard. The submachine gun flew out of the man's hands and into the air, where a second strand caught it, leaving it dangling beneath the eaves.

"I told you not to play with fire in the middle of the night. Why are you all worse than the last at taking advice?"

He looked up at the shattered window. There was no more movement inside. A moment later, Batman emerged through the stronghold's front entrance. He carried the last unconscious False Face Society member in one hand and set him on the steps by the door, his movements as brisk as if he were unloading cargo.

Chen Mo jumped down from the roof and landed beside Batman. "All clear inside?"

Batman nodded.

Chen Mo glanced at the crates of contraband piled by the stronghold's entrance, which they had not yet had time to load onto a vehicle, then looked at the web-sealed alleys. Every entrance and exit remained sealed. No one had slipped through.

"How about your end?"

"Not one got away, sir." Chen Mo pressed his index and ring fingers together and brushed his fingertips past his temple in a reporting salute.

Standing on the steps at the stronghold's entrance, Batman glanced at the web-sealed alleys, the submachine gun hanging beneath the eaves, and the False Face Society member on the ground who was still wrapped in webbing and unable to move.

"There are still people inside."

"Hmm... I think I saw them."