9 The Gentle Giant

Peter desperately wanted to tell Dick that he could hear him perfectly well, and even more so, that he truly longed to speak.

The anger that robbed him of words transformed into iron fists pounding the supervillain; the frozen body of the mud creature shattered, scattering fragments everywhere.

Peter showed no mercy. Having faced similar foes like the Sandman before, he knew mud-faced villains rarely died easily. Unlike Sandman, who feared water, the mud creature did not.

Yet the thawing happened faster than expected. Amid the clamor, Peter caught faint sounds of water and paused, focusing intently on the source.

After a moment, Nightwing saw his temporary partner wildly gesturing toward a mud-covered corner of the stage, anxiety making him stomp his feet in frustration—convincing Nightwing that he truly was mute and making him regret his earlier metaphor.

He scrutinized the spot Shadow Spider indicated and quickly noticed that part of the mud was the most saturated.

The mud creature feared dryness and heat, favoring a moist, temperate environment.

He had prepared in advance, somehow placing a water source beneath the stage and spreading his body to cover that area entirely in mud, cleverly hiding it from the vigilantes for the time being. Without cutting off the water supply, the mud creature was nearly invincible!

Dick immediately relayed the situation over the Bat-family channel, pleading for nearby allies to bring weapons specialized against the mud creature, while he himself planned to cut off the water source.

The mud creature’s recovery accelerated. Suddenly, Shadow Spider shot a web at Nightwing’s waist, yanking the bluebird closer just as he narrowly dodged a mud projectile.

The seemingly soft mud projectile struck the wall, leaving uneven craters; some even pierced through the structure.

The mud creature was going berserk. Gritting his teeth, Dick dared not test the theater’s structural limits.

“I’m going to find the way under the stage,” Dick said, handing all his remaining freezing grenades to Peter. He felt an inexplicable trust toward this dark, mysterious figure, though Batman would surely disapprove.

At that moment, a red disco ball descended from above, its dazzling light causing Peter to wonder if he should tone down the flashy red on his next costume.

He chose to enter the battlefield through the skylight, like his brother before him, handing the weapons to Dick while casting an extra glance at Peter.

“Nightwing, I’ll block the water. You hold him off,” he said, deliberately ignoring Shadow Spider’s presence, which gave Peter a subtle sense of hostility.

Why? Just because he was preventing him from killing?

“Use this on the mud creature when I’m out,” Jason instructed clearly before leaping toward the stage.

Jason’s stealth skills were impressive; even Peter couldn’t tell exactly where he vanished.

The mud creature grew increasingly comfortable in the cold, spreading mud throughout the theater to attack, gradually shrinking the safe zones. Standing on mud-covered ground risked losing mobility and being controlled.

Nightwing’s range of movement shrank, forcing him to swing along beams with his grappling hook, while Peter, charged with static electricity, moved nimbly like a spider, scaling walls and the dome.

Nightwing watched in awe. He had assumed Shadow Spider was just a stronger, high-tech, stickier version of a normal person, but this movement was unlike anything he’d seen.

Suddenly, the faint water sounds stopped—Jason had successfully blocked the source, but he hadn’t surfaced yet, so Nightwing held fire on the weapon Jason brought.

“If we shoot before the hood escapes, he might suffocate under the mud!” Nightwing explained to Peter.

Peter suspected it was more than that. The mud creature had already demonstrated control over others through mud; if it could also absorb their strength...

Peter had seen too many villains with such shameless abilities.

Meanwhile, Jason was beneath the stage. The water feeding the mud creature carried a briny stench—not from the theater’s reservoir but drawn directly from the sea.

At first, air squeezed in through the stage’s damage, but the holes were gradually sealed by mud, which also poured in wildly—clearly, the mud creature sensed Jason’s plan.

Jason desperately used every freezing grenade and gel he had to plug the water inlet, but his situation grew increasingly perilous.

Once the inlet was fully sealed, he had no exit.

He couldn’t blow the stage open; that would detonate the inlet as well.

Gritting his teeth, Jason called out over the comm: “Nightwing, now!”

The voice came through clearly, even Peter heard it and paled.

Now?

The weapon contained special gel; if Jason was trapped with the mud creature, suffocation was a real risk.

Nightwing and Red Hood had fought side by side many times before, and trusted each other implicitly. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger!

But a powerful force knocked the weapon from Nightwing’s hand. He looked up just in time to see a flash of light reflected off the weapon as it disappeared into the dome.

It was like a displacement reaction: the weapon ascended and vanished, followed by a black shadow falling straight into the thick mud.

Peter knew time was short—not because he couldn’t hold on, but because of Jason.

The damp mud pulled at his limbs, obscuring his vision. Peter stopped relying on sight; his spider-sense scanned the surroundings like radar, feeding his perception.

With the water pipe blocked, the mud creature exerted all its strength, sending mud surging from every direction, quickly engulfing Peter and Jason together.

Peter grabbed Red Hood’s arm. Any web shot would stick to the mud and fail to reach far.

He didn’t try to web Jason to safety; instead, his free hand reached for the water pipe, tearing a huge rip in the tough steel-plastic composite with his bare hands!

The theater flooded like a torrent; the massive influx of seawater diluted and washed away the viscous mud. Against the current, Peter climbed the wall with Jason, confirming he was still breathing and had a heartbeat. Using webs, he secured Jason about five feet off the ground—safe from the water and any dangerous fall—and went after the almost unrecognizable mass of mud.

The mud creature plunged into the water, terrified by Peter’s sudden burst of strength, fleeing like a cornered dog along the current.

Peter couldn’t find the target underwater, resignedly securing himself and waiting for the water to recede, then shook his head like a wet dog.

Nightwing leapt down from the beam to rescue his suspended brother, but the seemingly soft webbing was surprisingly tough and hard to tear by hand.

Peter hurried to help, quickly ripping the webs free and discreetly smearing them on the floor so the remaining trickles of water would wash away the evidence, avoiding leaving clues for the vigilantes or police.

Dick’s expression was complicated as he laid Jason flat, pressing on his chest. Jason coughed up a few mouthfuls of water, his helmet comically puffed out around the mouthpiece.

He quickly regained consciousness but looked disoriented. Dick explained what had happened. Seeing the silent Shadow Spider, Jason exploded in fury: “Why’d you drag me? Why didn’t you shoot?”

The spider eyes on Peter’s mask widened, and Nightwing could clearly see his disbelief.

He saved him! Why the scolding?

“My helmet has a built-in respirator. I wouldn’t have died,” Jason snapped angrily.

Dick gave his shin a little kick, whispering, “Don’t be stubborn.”

From Shadow Spider’s earlier display of strength, Dick genuinely feared his brother could have been torn in two like that unlucky water pipe.

But Peter, though dressed all in black and Gotham-like, was truly a bright-hearted, gentle neighbor.

Feeling wronged, the good neighbor lowered his head and muttered a vague “sorry,” shot a web, and vanished into the darkness.

“You scared him off,” Dick scolded Jason. “He was trying to help! The mud creature can be caught again, but if you’re dead, that’s it.”

Jason’s focus was no longer on the mud creature: “He could talk after all?”

Dick: “...Not bothering with you.”

The all-black Shadow Spider, like Gotham’s other bat without wings, swung toward his parked bike. The mud covering his suit dried rapidly, making him uncomfortable and eager to change back into something more comfortable.

His low mood made him overlook something crucial—when his body suddenly lurched upward, he realized: he was out of webbing.

His webs were homemade, crafted from a high-strength, highly stretchable, biodegradable material stored in wrist shooters. Last night’s long journey depleted his supply; today’s heavy use in controlling the mud creature left him out of ammo. Now, Peter was plummeting straight down.

Spider-Man’s body was tough enough to survive the fall, but a rough landing was inevitable. Peter braced himself for the pain.

—Instead, he was caught gently. The landing spot wasn’t soft, and his backside hurt a little, but he looked up in surprise to meet a pair of eyes glowing a gentle blue.

Bee caught the falling Spider-Man in his palm, protecting him well. His throat emitted a curious sound, both like the buzzing of a bee and mechanical in nature.