8. Truly a mute.

The faceplate snapped shut with a sharp click. Bumblebee switched to battle mode, scanning the direction Peter had taken. In his vision, a small figure appeared in thermal imaging, leaping across uneven terrain and moving away rapidly.

This was a movement style Bumblebee had never seen before. Instantly intrigued, he quickly transformed back into Camaro mode and silently gave chase.

Shadow Spider lurked in the shadows beneath the eaves of the Gotham Grand Theater. Police cars were gathering, and snipers were stationed at higher vantage points. Peter felt the ground beneath him trembling, as if some monstrous creature was about to burst forth from the earth.

He could hear a dozen rapid breaths and heartbeats—people trapped inside the theater, sharing the space with an unknown monster.

There was no way Peter could enter through the front door or windows under the watchful eyes of several officers. Scanning around, he spotted a skylight.

Under the cover of darkness, Peter crept over and gently lifted the skylight, coming face to face with a familiar figure from the Bat family.

Nightwing’s infiltration approach was clearly identical to Peter’s. The two vigilantes locked eyes. Nightwing reacted swiftly, leaping back and raising his escrima sticks in a defensive stance.

This courteous gesture to yield the way was an opportunity Peter seized without hesitation. With a quick slip, he slipped inside. Before Nightwing could respond to the sudden encounter, Shadow Spider vanished as if he had never been there.

Beneath Peter’s feet was the theater’s stage, supported by sturdy beams across the dome. Standing on one, he took in a harrowing scene.

A massive humanoid figure made of mud was stuck in the center of the stage. If not for the chanting sound emitting from it—seemingly reciting lines—Peter wouldn’t have been able to tell it was even a person. The floor was coated in thick mud, with over a dozen people trapped, struggling to move.

They were being controlled. The source was likely the mud creature.

Peter quickly assessed the situation. The mud monster had taken hostages; it was the lead actor, while the hostages were coerced performers. The police couldn’t break in directly and had to find an opening. He and an unfamiliar vigilante were probably the first to arrive that night.

He had to rescue the hostages first.

Peter studied the hostages’ expressions and listened to their heartbeats, selecting the calmest woman positioned behind the mud figure.

He extended a web line from his wrist, attaching it to the woman’s back, gently pulling her upward.

Bit by bit, the woman was lifted out of the mire, away from the ground. Sensing something was amiss, she looked up in fear and spotted Shadow Spider’s shadowy silhouette on the beam above.

She did not disappoint Peter. Despite her fearful expression, she restrained herself from making any noise or struggling.

In her heart, she prayed that the rescuer was a vigilante—not an ally of the mud creature—someone who could at least temporarily free her from danger.

Peter safely pulled her onto the beam. It was high up; she clung to the beam with hands and feet, whispering, “Thank you, thank you…”

Her swift gratitude made Peter marvel at the resilience of Gotham’s citizens.

However, her composure was not enough for her to climb the beam to the skylight and escape immediately. Peter couldn’t risk pulling all the hostages up to test the beam’s strength; he could only bring up one person at a time and escort them out, an undeniably slow process.

But it was the only way.

Turning, Peter prepared to lead the woman out—when he locked eyes once again with the figure who had met the skylight before.

The young vigilante’s black bodysuit outlined his toned muscles, the bright blue emblem on his chest drawing attention and complementing the blue eyes visible beneath his mask.

Nightwing reached out, grasping the woman’s arm, signaling Peter to continue pulling people up with his webs while he escorted them out.

Nightwing took in the scene of the mysterious black-clad figure rescuing the woman, then sent a message to Batman via his wrist communicator: “The new kid’s a good guy.”

The Bat family’s grappling hooks were designed for movement and combat, not for delicate rescue like Peter’s approach. They were too rigid and dangerous, easily piercing fragile human bodies.

So Nightwing instinctively took a support role behind Peter. Once the hostages were safe, they could move in and deal with the mud creature.

The mud figure, lost in his own performance, heard the Gotham police demanding the hostages be released, as well as the faint broadcast of reporters outside the theater. It made him acutely aware of how much attention he was drawing.

After most of Gotham’s active criminals had been locked away in Arkham and Blackgate by the vigilantes, the mud creature had become something of a “Gotham celebrity” for a time. He was elusive, unpredictable, and hadn’t caused serious trouble, so Batman had not focused much effort on him.

But last night’s mass Arkham breakout shifted all public attention back to the lunatics.

The mud creature was displeased.

So he staged a play inside the Gotham Grand Theater, forcing his way back into the public eye in the most direct manner.

Lost in his “radiant glory,” he didn’t notice the “actors” he had kidnapped—his property—disappearing one by one onto the beams above.

Most hostages were theater staff. Seeing the secret rescue underway above, they kept glancing upward, hoping to be the next pulled to safety.

Their unusual expressions finally drew the mud creature’s attention. Breaking from his reverie, he roared, “What are you all staring at? As actors, you should have the dignity of an actor!”

Awakening fully, the mud creature surveyed his surroundings—only three people remained nearby.

Whoever he looked at was filled with terror, desperately retreating through the mud. The theater manager even began shouting, “Help! Save me!”

The mud creature flailed his arms toward the dome. Peter thought, “This is bad,” and without hesitation leapt down from the beam.

Nightwing’s heart skipped a beat as he peered downward.

Shadow Spider’s feet, propelled with tremendous force, delivered a thunderous kick to the mud creature’s head!

The mud creature moved slowly, unable to dodge. The blow shattered him into thousands of mud fragments.

“Wow, that was that easy?” Peter whispered in surprise.

The force was so great that the impact left a crater on the stage, almost swallowing Peter himself.

The three hostages freed scattered like sheep released from a pen.

Nightwing exhaled in relief, then helped the last hostage on the beam jump down, cushioning the fall with his grappling hook to land safely.

Though the mud creature was tough, its quick fragmentation suggested...

Before Peter could finish the thought, the scattered mud began writhing, slowly converging, and the humanoid form reassembled.

Nightwing’s escrima sticks, his stun gun, grappling hooks... Peter’s webs and spider strength—all were powerless to stop the mud from moving where it wished.

Sensing danger, Peter shot a web toward the exit, then pulled himself closer, grabbing two struggling hostages along the way. Nightwing followed behind, escorting one hostage with each hand, guiding them out of the theater.

At the entrance, police raised their weapons at the approaching figures. Officer Gordon’s sharp eyes caught the movement, shouting, “Cease fire! They’re hostages!”

Officers took the hostages from the vigilantes’ hands. Gordon stared in surprise at the unfamiliar Shadow Spider.

Peter wanted to greet the officers—he anticipated frequent encounters with them in the coming years—but lacking a voice modulator in his suit, he reluctantly held back his urge to speak.

Shadow Spider and Nightwing simultaneously launched webs and grappling hooks, then leapt forward with great force toward the reforming mud creature. The similarity in their movements nearly made Peter speak, but he held back, resolving to install a voice modulator as soon as he got home.

“We need to freeze him completely!” Nightwing finally spoke to Peter. “Got any ideas? He’s obviously taken something to enhance himself. Last time we fought, after shattering him like this, he took a long time to recover.”

He tossed several objects to Peter, who caught them with webs. They felt icy cold—some kind of cooling devices.

Seeing Peter remain silent, Nightwing shrugged and began hurling ice grenades at the mud mass. The dropping temperature slowed the mud creature’s movements, but it still resolutely reformed into humanoid shape.

The grenades’ blast radius was too small, and the mud creature’s spread too wide.

Peter thought for a moment, then began leaping along the stage edges, shooting webs rapidly from his wrists. They wove swiftly into a dense, solid net, tightening around the mud figure.

Though some mud oozed out, the creature was largely restrained, its volume compressed under pressure. At this point, the ice grenades took full effect, freezing it solid and slowing its movements to the pace of an ancient tortoise.

“We can only delay him a while,” Dick said quietly. “If we don’t get him transported and locked up soon, he’ll thaw out. We don’t have enough ice grenades!”

Peter nodded in response.

“Another poor soul whose tongue has been taken by the god of silence,” Dick muttered softly. “His eloquence rivals Batman’s.”