The finger shifted outward a little.
Peter had just braced the man's jaw when blackness crawled up his glove, wrapped tightly around his knuckles, and pulled back, taking his hand with it.
His chest hurt again. Peter felt as though something between the bones there had been shattered.
His breath caught halfway in. He pressed his shoulder against Venom's jaw and braced both feet against the bent steel beam. The man's face rested against his forearm guard, his mouth still smiling, his teeth knocking against the red armor again and again.
Batman supported the man's waist and moved him toward Peter's side. The black arm stretched along with him, and the finger they had already moved away curled back around him.
"Don't twist it!"
Peter wrapped both hands around the finger and pressed it toward his own chest.
A red warning spread from the edge of his vision.
Suspected fractures in four ribs.
He stared at the number, his lips moving, the pain bringing tears to the corners of his eyes.
Jason climbed up from the other side of the base, looped the rescue line around his waist, and caught the end.
"Get back first! Let Bat take over!"
"Wait..."
"Spider, your suit's sounding an alarm. You've broken four ribs. Stop pushing yourself." Barbara's voice over comms carried worry.
Peter slowly let out that breath and pushed his shoulder forward another half inch.
"Only four. I've still got two hundred and two good ones."
Barbara answered with a sigh.
Jason's hand paused on the rope.
Was that how you were supposed to count them?
He clenched his teeth, wound the rope around his palm once more, and leaned back. Peter's back finally had support. The injured side of his chest moved slightly away from the black arm, and much of