Who Forgot to Unplug the Space Heater Before Leaving?

Ratatatat!

The heavy machine gun's muzzle fire swept across the dockside warehouse. Sparks flew from rusted shipping containers, their metal walls caving in one section after another.

Chen Mo huddled behind a container, both hands over his ears, his face nearly scrunched into a ball beneath his mask.

Who forgot to unplug the space heater before leaving?

And left it on full-auto, too.

A mere graze from a bullet of that caliber would turn his freshly stitched cheap pajamas into rags on the spot, taking a few pounds of body parts along with it.

"Buddy! That's way too much firepower! I'm only wearing pajamas! Pajamas!"

The gunfire drowned him out, so Chen Mo could only keep yelling at the top of his lungs.

"You're shooting me with something meant for armored vehicles! Is that fair? Where's your sportsmanship? Did Gotham's mob induction training drop dueling etiquette?"

A sweeping burst answered him.

A scrap of sheet metal skimmed the container's edge, struck Chen Mo's mask with a clang, and bounced away.

Chen Mo ducked his head.

"Fine. Negotiations have broken down. Should've known you bunch of sentient potatoes don't watch sports."

He was still shouting, but his ears had already started counting the rhythm of the gunfire.

The ammunition belt rattled across the concrete. Scarface advanced with the heavy machine gun in his arms, slowly angling its muzzle around the container's edge.

Chen Mo glanced up.

An old crane hung above the warehouse, abandoned for who knew how long. Rust flaked from its steel cable, and its two-ton main hook hung in midair, swaying slightly from the gunfire.

All right, then.

Thank you, Gotham's equipment maintenance department.

Chen Mo suddenly dashed out from cover, bent low, his feet moving furiously. The hem of his pajamas flipped up in the wind and nearly plastered itself over his face.

If he had health insurance, he really would have liked to make this run look cooler.

For now, keeping his parts intact came first.

"Slow down! Slow down! My shoelace came undone!"

Bullets chased his heels, blasting a string of sparks from the ground.

"Just kidding! These crappy shoes don't even have laces!"

Scarface swore, raising the muzzle to track Chen Mo relentlessly.

Chen Mo rushed beneath the hook. An oil-leaking metal drum happened to sit at his feet. He stepped into the puddle of oil and pitched forward, flailing both arms wildly.

At least, it looked pretty wild.

Scarface stopped and lowered the muzzle toward his back.

Chen Mo raised his wrist.

Whoosh!

A web stuck to the crane's crossbeam, and he used its pull to launch himself upward. Scarface's muzzle followed him up. The stream of bullets skimmed beneath Chen Mo's feet and bit into the aging steel cable.

Steel strands snapped one after another.

Chen Mo swung past the hook and fired another web, sticking it to the hook's side.

The last few steel strands broke.

The two-ton iron hook plummeted. Using the momentum of his swing, Chen Mo pulled hard, forcibly shifting its landing point half a meter.

"Watch out-though I don't know which direction you should watch out for!"

Scarface finally looked up.

Boom!

The hook smashed into the concrete in front of him, spraying rubble and dust into his face. Scarface and his gun were thrown backward. His back struck the warehouse's metal doors, and he slid to the ground with a clang.

The heavy machine gun landed several meters away, its barrel still smoking.

Chen Mo released his web and landed with a patter, crouching there to catch his breath.

"That scared the hell out of me..."

He scrambled over to Scarface and held a hand beneath the man's nose.

Still breathing.

Chen Mo's shoulders relaxed, and he sat on the ground.

"Thank God, thank physics, and thank Gotham's equipment maintenance department for its tireless commitment to slacking off over the years."

Scarface was thoroughly unconscious.

Chen Mo still patted his face and earnestly advised him, "Buddy, remember to file a complaint when you wake up. A hook that big, falling just like that? What a serious safety hazard. Good thing I shouted a warning. No need to thank me. It's what a good neighbor should do."

High on the warehouse's steel framework, Batman crouched in the shadows, having watched the whole thing.

His lenses had already replayed those few seconds in slow motion.

The boy's first web had given him the leverage to dodge the bullets. His second had stuck to the falling hook, dragging its landing point from directly above Scarface's head to half a meter away.

That shout of "Watch out" had been well timed, too.

As for why the hook had fallen, this good neighbor probably intended to pin that on the equipment maintenance department as well.

Batman saved the recording. Sirens suddenly sounded outside, followed closely by the roar of motorcycles, one after another, already blocking the road outside the warehouse.

The Maroni Family's reinforcements had arrived.

Their response times had always had a distinctly Gotham flavor: usually a street ahead of the police.

Chen Mo had just pushed himself to his feet when a sudden chill ran across the back of his neck.

Someone was watching him.

The sensation was heavy and close, almost pressed against his back.

Peter Tingle, could you please go off?

Even his own meager sixth sense could detect the giant bat behind him, while the genuine ability was still playing dead in the system's storage.

Spider-Sense, please.

If the system would just give it to him, he could go half a month without mentally cursing it. A month would work, too. The exact duration was negotiable.

A dark figure dropped from above, cape spreading in midair before folding in with barely a stir of dust.

Chen Mo yelped and sprang onto the opposite wall, all four limbs pressed against it.

"You're... that big bat!"

Batman looked at him.

Chen Mo pointed at him, his hand still shaking, his mouth already getting to work.

"Wow, you're much taller than you look in the papers. Really. I read about you all the time... not on purpose. I just glance at the newsstands when I walk past. Mostly because those papers write about you every day and barely leave any space for me. Pretty unfair."

As he spoke, he looked down and patted his tattered pajamas.

"Okay, I confess. I'm actually a fan. Can I get your autograph? Just sign my clothes. I'm planning to make these a family heirloom."

Batman turned toward the warehouse entrance.

"They're here."

The warehouse doors were rammed open by the front of a vehicle immediately afterward. Dozens of Maroni Family thugs poured in, their assault rifles and flashlight beams sweeping toward the center.

The man nearest the doors had barely raised his gun when a Batarang struck its barrel. The muzzle veered toward the ceiling, and bullets shot out two overhead lights.

Half the warehouse went dark.

Batman vanished into that darkness.

"Why is everyone so allergic to talking? You'll all end up depressed."

Chen Mo pursed his lips and leaped off the wall into the shadows on the other side.

The thug in front was still searching when an elbow struck him beneath the ribs. A second man turned to help, only for the cape to wrap around his wrist. His whole arm was dragged down, and a kick struck his knee.

Batman seized the rifle and swung it backward into a third man's gunstock.

Crack!

Both guns flew out of their owners' hands.

"Wait for me! We're on the same team!"

Chen Mo leaped onto a container and raised his hand, firing a web onto a thug's ankle. The web reeled upward, leaving the man hanging upside down beneath a steel beam, his head still two meters above the ground.

"You might not be wearing red and blue, but I can work with the dark aesthetic!"

Another thug circled behind Batman. He had just raised his gun when a layer of white webbing splatted across his face. Chen Mo tugged, sending the man flying sideways to stick against the warehouse wall.

"Seal's in place. Don't move. Moving counts as violently resisting arrest."

Batman swept the man before him off his feet, then glanced back at Chen Mo.

Chen Mo immediately perked up.

"That left hook was pretty cool. What's it called? Bat Heart-Ripper?"

Batman looked away and continued beating people up.

All right, that counted as interaction.

Maroni's men soon discovered that guns weren't especially useful here. Half the lights had been smashed. Their muzzles couldn't keep up with Batman, and those that could track Chen Mo got webbed shut.

Several men grouped up and pressed inward, while the rest circled along both sides of the containers. A thug hiding in the back crouched, pulled a grenade from inside his clothes, and yanked out the pin.

Chen Mo was perched up high and saw everything clearly.

"Grenade! Grenade, grenade, grenade!"

His voice cracked on the spot.

Batman was blocked by three men on the other side and had already turned his head, looking for an angle.

Chen Mo's eyes lit up.

Here was his chance.

Save lives and latch onto a powerful backer. Two things at once.

His first web stuck to the thug's wrist and jerked it downward. The grenade slipped free, but it had only fallen half a foot before a second web caught it and looped around it in midair.

Chen Mo launched himself off the container and knocked the thug aside. Webbing sprayed from both wrists in succession, wrapping the already-smoking grenade layer after layer.

In an instant, the white webbing formed a cocoon.

He pressed the white cocoon into the corner at the base of a container, turned his shoulder, and shielded the men on the ground from it.

Boom!

A muffled explosion burst inside the webbing. The white cocoon suddenly bulged, only to be held down by the container. The blast vented outward, but still sent Chen Mo tumbling.

He rolled several times across the ground, his shoulder crashing into a pile of scrap parts.

"Cough... cough, cough..."

Chen Mo stayed facedown, first lowering his head to check his shoulder.

His pajamas were torn. Several tiny metal fragments had pierced his skin, and blood was running down his arm.

It hurt.

Goddamn it, it really hurt.

But since he was already bleeding, he had to make it worth something.

Chen Mo pushed himself up and crawled over to the thug from earlier, holding his fingers beneath the man's nose.

Still breathing.

Only then did he sit back and cover his shoulder, making sure his arm trembled a little more noticeably.

He had to find a way to move Batman.

If he couldn't move Batman, moving Bruce Wayne would work, too.

This rich guy liked picking up Robins everywhere. What was wrong with picking up a spider while he was at it? He was easy to keep. A bite to eat, a roof over his head, and some basic health insurance would do.

Once he was officially adopted, he would find a chance to announce that his spider powers had mysteriously vanished. Then he could settle down as a rich heir, spend extravagantly, and live it up.

The plan was beautiful.

For now, he needed to tremble more sincerely.

"You're not dead... oh God, you scared the hell out of me." Chen Mo sucked in a sharp breath, a little more blood seeping between his fingers. "How can you just throw grenades around? That's completely against workplace safety regulations..."

He searched for Batman out of the corner of his eye.

Good. He was watching.

Chen Mo gave another shudder.

"My father is Iron Man" wasn't happening anytime soon, but "my father is Batman" sounded pretty badass, too.

On the other side of the warehouse, Batman finished off the last thug and walked straight to the blackened web cocoon.

He crouched to inspect the blast marks, then looked up at the container's inner side. Most of the force had vented outward. The wounds on Chen Mo's shoulder had come from fragments flying back from outside.

He had spotted the grenade long before.

The boy had been one step faster.

Batman walked over to Chen Mo.

Chen Mo sat in the dust, clutching his shoulder, his breathing rapid and ragged. He really did look quite miserable.

Except his eyes kept darting this way.

"You need to get that wound treated."

Chen Mo raised his head, the two black lenses he had sewn onto his mask facing Batman.

"Oh, this? It's fine. Really, it's fine."

He pushed himself up from the ground, but the moment he moved his shoulder, he sucked in a breath from the pain.

This time, he didn't need to act.

"I've... I've had much worse falls before. Really. Once, I fell from the thirteenth floor, and there was just a metal dumpster underneath. Not a very friendly landing spot."

Chen Mo paused, decided that sounded a little embarrassing, and hurriedly waved a hand.

"Never mind. That's not much of an introduction. Thanks for caring."

He suddenly caught on, and his voice perked right up.

"Wow, Batman cares about me. That makes today worth it. I took a burst of gunfire and got blown up by a grenade, but I finally got to hear you say a whole sentence to me."

Chen Mo raised his wrist, showing him the webbing still dripping from it.

"What did you think of that move? I'm planning to call it Blast-Proof Cling Film. Pretty high-tech name, right?"

Batman looked at him without answering.

The guy in front of him was putting on an act.

A very deliberate one, and he thought Batman couldn't tell.