11 As if Seeing an Old Friend Approaching

“Weren’t you supposed to be out tonight?” Peter asked, sipping from a bottle of milk. Jason was surprised to find that he wasn’t averse to milk. In the Batcave, this was rare—eighty percent of the bats’ bloodstream was filled with coffee.

“Something was left here,” Jason said awkwardly.

In truth, Dick had insisted on bringing him back for a physical examination. Although Jason insisted he was fine, Dick’s check-up revealed lung damage, multiple soft tissue bruises, and fractured ribs. Using Jason’s motorcycle as leverage, Dick made him stay and rest properly in the Batcave.

Dick had been prepared for a fierce confrontation with Jason, but to his surprise, after a moment’s hesitation, Jason agreed. It seemed he really cared about his bike, Dick thought.

After the examination, Jason ran into Peter in the dining hall and helped him out of an awkward situation. Naturally, they ended up sitting together, plates in hand, eating. Peter took a few bites and looked up, noting that no other family members had shown up. It was nearly ten at night. He asked, “Where’s Bruce? Alfred? Is it just the two of us? Shouldn’t Dick be out of the hospital by now?”

Peter wondered, in such a vast manor, if there were only one or two people at times, would they be afraid?

“They have engagements,” Jason replied casually. “You can take care of yourself, right?”

“Of course!” Peter’s curious eyes brightened. “Is there anything… like, any legends here? I mean, it’s such an old estate.”

The walls were adorned with portraits spanning over three centuries and generations of Waynes.

Jason realized Peter was asking if there had been any supernatural occurrences here. He thought for a moment, then put on a serious expression: “There are, indeed.”

Peter suddenly grew tense, staring at Jason with his fork paused mid-air, forgetting to bring food to his mouth. “What happened?”

“There was a boy who died here,” Jason said. “You’ve seen the family cemetery, right? He’s buried there.”

…Really? Peter touched the goosebumps rising on his arm. “And then?”

“Later, he crawled out of the grave,” Jason said, pointing slowly toward the cemetery. “He crawled out of the estate in that direction…”

“Crawled out? And never came back?” Peter asked nervously.

Jason shook his head, then nodded again, his expression grave as he stared up at the ceiling.

Peter felt a chill. “Don’t scare me.”

Such a fragile college student. Jason was quite pleased that he could scare Peter with his own experiences.

Despite Peter’s great strength and spider-sense, before mutation he was just a homebody, afraid not only of ghosts but also of aliens.

Besides, he often heard faint sounds from underground and was sure it wasn’t just his imagination.

Could this place really be haunted?

Peter felt uneasy, afraid to open his eyes and find a ghost lurking on the ceiling.

Yet, the ghost itself was sleeping soundly in the next room.

The next morning, Peter woke with dark circles under his eyes. He wandered into the dining room to find food still warm on his place at the table, but no sign of Mr. Wayne or the elegant butler.

Could there be a tooth fairy cooking meals in this manor?

Bruce had gone out last night to investigate the Mudface lead, ran into a gang fight on the way, and didn’t return until four in the morning. Being older, when he finally climbed back into bed, he mumbled to Alfred to remind the family members to find time to come back and meet the new boarder.

The young man was sensitive; Bruce worried he might overthink things with no one paying attention to him in the manor.

But Peter was managing well enough. After eating, he texted Alfred to check in, then eagerly went to the garage to greet Bumblebee and take him to Gotham University.

Driving to school for the first time! How exciting!

As Bumblebee left the estate, a trail of dust kicked up behind. Dick watched from his window, incredulous, and messaged Jason: “You really took him to buy that junk?”

Jason quickly replied, “He picked it himself!”

“Wait until word gets out that he’s boarding at Wayne Manor,” Dick typed sternly, “just wait for the press to smear us.”

“Heh,” Jason replied coldly, “not my problem.”

He thought a moment and happily added, “If driving a junker can ruin Bruce’s reputation, I might as well go find a used car myself.”

Dick: “…”

He turned off his phone, unwilling to indulge his childish younger brother any longer.

On the way to school, Peter was excited, and so was Bumblebee.

It was his first time seeing humans go to school.

The radio flicked through channels, playing various stirring pop songs.

Bumblebee had never experienced school. As a silicon-based lifeform, their memories were stored on memory cards, easily copied between them, with no need for teachers to impart knowledge. The closest thing to a mentor Bumblebee had was Optimus Prime, who wasn’t currently on Earth. With no contact with the Autobots and no sign of the Decepticons, Bumblebee was quite bored on Earth.

Compared to copying data from memory cards, transmitting knowledge orally through voice was an incredibly inefficient method, especially since the recipient had to repeat multiple times to remember. Bumblebee had long wanted to witness this primitive way.

Peter didn’t realize Bumblebee’s fascination was similar to that of humans observing cave dwellers. He thought Bumblebee found university equally wondrous and appealing.

Unfortunately, the places where he could drive on campus were limited and heavily monitored. Peter took Bumblebee to the parking lot and realized he still couldn’t explore the academic buildings or other areas. Bumblebee immediately became deflated, and the radio stopped playing music.

Sensing his mood, Peter patted the steering wheel to comfort him: “I’ve enrolled in classes. I’ll find a way to fix your voice module. Wait for me!”

Although Bumblebee couldn’t roam freely during school, he could accompany Peter on night patrols. In the chaos of those scenes, an alien shouldn’t attract too much attention. If discovered, Peter figured they could just say he was an intelligent machine brought back from a Kryptonian ship.

The radio emitted a series of chirps and squawks, clearly annoying Bumblebee. Peter quickly promised to take him on all the fun adventures later, calming him down. The radio then played the phrase, “I will wait for you.”

Peter gently closed the car door, tenderly stroked the roof for a moment, and then headed toward the club recruitment fair.

Gotham University was no different from other schools in terms of student activities—there were countless clubs, young people bustling and brimming with youthful energy.

Peter wasn’t very interested in clubs. He came mainly to see if there were any competitive groups or ones focused on materials and programming.

Programming was a weak point for Peter. He used to have Ned’s help, but now he had to rely on himself.

Among all the student clubs, the most ostentatious was the fraternity. Peter eyed several young men occupying prominent spots, their loud voices and raucous music audible even from the school gates. Nearby, a few boys wore chicken wire cages on their heads—perhaps some initiation ritual for joining.

Shaking his head, Peter decided not to get involved.

Back in high school, Ned had encouraged him to join a fraternity, but he accidentally offended a member named Frazier. The fraternity never worked out, and Frazier targeted him for three years.

Looking back now, those nicknames and obstacles from Frazier had faded from Peter’s mind and no longer troubled him. Besides, Frazier later became obsessed with Spider-Man and, knowing Peter was Spider-Man, became his sycophant, constantly pestering him to sling webs.

Remembering this, Peter smiled and shook his head.

Frazier no longer remembered him either. Peter had checked his Facebook; it used to be filled with Spider-Man posts but hadn’t been updated in a long time.

Ignoring the noisy fraternity boys, Peter carefully scanned the club names for something that caught his interest. Suddenly, a head of golden-brown hair flashed through his sight. The face was so familiar that Peter froze.

What was he doing in Gotham?

After a moment of stunned hesitation, Peter took off after him: “Harry!”