"Let's see what kind of danger we're dealing with that makes our lovely neighbors bypass their friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and insist on looking for that bat instead."
Beneath the clock tower was a closed convenience store, its rolling shutter door pulled halfway down.
The one casting the Bat-Signal wasn't Gordon. There were no police cars, no sirens--only an armored car with its back door pried open, and three masked robbers stuffing money bags into a van.
To be honest, Chen Mo was a little disappointed. A mere bank robbery? He thought he would run into someone like Scarecrow, Mr. Freeze, or Riddler.
Since coming to Gotham City, he handled at least five of these minor bank robberies a day.
Ah, what a wholesome and simple populace.
The Bat-Signal had been turned on by an old man in a gas station uniform standing nearby. It was a portable, handheld searchlight with a homemade, bat-shaped piece of black paper pasted over it. The light shone through the paper, casting a crooked bat shadow onto the wall of the clock tower.
The old man crouched behind a trash can at the entrance of the convenience store, holding the makeshift searchlight in his hands. His expression looked like he was doing the bravest and stupidest thing he had ever done in his life.
Chen Mo hung upside down from the streetlight pole right above his head. "Old-timer, did you make that gadget yourself?"
The old man jumped in fright, nearly dropping the searchlight onto the ground. "S-Spider-Man?"
Chen Mo pointed at the bat shadow on the clock tower.
"Nice craftsmanship. But are you sure Batman is free tonight? He might be beating people up at the docks, or he might be chasing the Penguin. You know, Batman is very busy. Luckily for you, you still have a friendly neighborhood superhero."
In this area, how could Batman drive over faster than he could swing over?
Chen Mo lowered himself from the streetlight pole. "Wait here, don't get hit by a stray bullet."
The three robbers were stuffing the last money bag into the van.
Chen Mo crouched on the roof of the van, waiting for them to stack the bags neatly before speaking up: "Hey, trio. Does your armored car modification service require approval? As far as I know, the Gotham municipality imposes hefty fines for illegal modifications. Plus, you're not wearing seatbelts."
The leader reacted the fastest, reaching for the pistol at his waist.
Chen Mo's web was faster than him.
Before the gun could even be drawn, his wrist was already webbed to the car door handle.
The second robber turned to run, but Chen Mo tripped him with a sweep of his leg. Webbing wrapped around his ankle, leaving him hanging upside down from the van's rearview mirror.
The third robber raised his hands, giving up automatically.
"A wise choice."
Chen Mo webbed the three of them along with the money bags to the side of the van, then wrote a few words on a sticky note: "Attempted ATM robbery foiled. Stolen funds recovered. Suspects waiting in the vehicle for the police. Don't mention it."
He pasted it onto the van's windshield.
The sticky note was bought with his own money, no less.
The old man walked out from behind the trash can, still holding his makeshift searchlight.
"T-Thank you. I thought the one coming would be Batman..."
Chen Mo slapped the dust off his hands. "But I got here first. And seriously, don't you think his way of showing up is way too terrifying? Suddenly popping out of the shadows, eyes completely white, voice sounding like sandpaper scraping out 'I am the night'--can your heart take that?"
The old man thought about it and shook his head.
Chen Mo nodded. "So, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man at your service. Free of charge. No tips accepted. Only smiles."
He shot a web, swinging up to the top of the clock tower before the old man could react, disappearing into the night.
Standing at the entrance of the convenience store with the crooked bat searchlight in his hand, the corners of the old man's mouth actually quirked upward.
"Spider-Man?"
His smile was very sharp and quite eerie.
The 4:00 AM wind in Gotham felt like a stepmother's heavy slap, stinging sharply against the face.
Chen Mo crouched on the rooftop of a building next to the robbed bank, looking down to inspect his new gear.
This suit, which had cost him a hefty three hundred and sixty dollars to craft, finally stopped making him look like some red-and-blue long-johns-wearing pervert who sneaked out at midnight to steal manhole covers.
Why did no one compliment his cool new suit during his night patrol today?
A bunch of indifferent people.
Those who ignore spiders don't deserve love.
Chen Mo reached out to touch the light gray polymer armor patch on his chest. Though it was only a thin layer, it could at least block close-range shots from small-caliber pistols.
Of course, if the opponent was holding a shotgun or a rifle, he would still have to obediently perform a theatrical death on the spot.
...Just kidding. Actually, with his Spider-Sense, they wouldn't be able to hit him at all.
Chen Mo complained silently to himself.
The night finally fell into a temporary silence. While crouching on the rooftop and spacing out, Chen Mo calculated his expenses in his head.
For this gear, he had haggled with that ghoul-looking shop owner in the underground materials store for two whole hours.
Ballistic nylon cloth, five yards, sixty-six dollars.
Lightweight titanium alloy patches--though only a few small pieces, he managed to bargain it down to sixty dollars.
The most absurd part was that leaky handheld sewing machine, which cost thirty-five dollars.
Along with miscellaneous polymer fibers and super glue, his two-thousand-dollar manuscript fee had instantly shrunk by a massive chunk.
He now had a little over sixteen hundred dollars left in his pocket.
It sounded like a lot, but in a place like Gotham where even the air smelled like US dollars, this amount of money would only last him two months if he ate compressed biscuits.
Chen Mo had also checked Gotham's rental websites.
Even for the worst basement in the East District, where the wall paint flaked off like dandruff, the monthly rent was five hundred dollars.
And that wasn't even counting the deposit.
The crucial point was that as an undocumented resident, he didn't even have a legal credit history. Landlords looked at him like he was a walking corpse that could die in the room at any moment.
"I can rent to you, but it'll cost extra. A lot extra."
Renting a place was impossible. Renting a place was out of the question for the rest of his life.
Chen Mo recalled the attic he lived in.
Though it leaked rain, lacked stairs, and had a ventilation shaft so narrow only a cat could squeeze through, its saving grace was that it was free.
In this crappy world, free was the ultimate justice.
Chen Mo pulled a compressed biscuit out of his waist pouch.
This thing was as hard as a brick, and its taste was no different from chewing on dried cardboard boxes.
He took a bite, making his jaw ache fiercely.
Just how uninspired were these white people in America to invent such an anti-human food?
High oil and high calories were one thing, but some desserts were actually so sweet that they triggered his Spider-Sense into giving him a false alarm of a "fatal threat."
He even suspected that the reason there were so many criminals in Gotham was purely because they ate too many donuts, leaving their brains thoroughly pickled in sugar.
Just as he was about to swallow the last bite of the cardboard-flavored biscuit, his ears twitched.
It was a sound coming from the alleyway.
It wasn't the common, agonizing scream of a robbery, but rather a few faint, weak dog whimpers.
Interspersed within were the laughing insults of several men.
Chen Mo sighed, stuffing the remaining half of the biscuit back into his pouch.
"The friendly neighborhood's night shift has arrived. Is there really no supervillain who wants to trade blows with me?"
He leapt forward, his red-and-blue figure drawing a crisp arc through the air once more.
Unfortunately, the nearby buildings were a bit low, and he nearly scraped the ground as he glided past.
Deep in the alley.
Three thugs wearing tattered leather jackets were surrounding a corner.
The leader was using his mud-covered boots to viciously kick a curled-up shadow.
It was a yellowish-brown puppy, only the size of a palm, its hind leg dangling at a bizarre angle.
It couldn't cry out properly, only able to emit bursts of sobbing, wheezing whimpers.
Further down the deep alley lay the stiff corpse of a mother dog.
Her fur was matted and her belly was gaunt; she had clearly given birth not long ago.
Chen Mo landed on a nearby trash can without making a single sound.
He glanced at the mother dog.
He had a slight recollection of the dog he saw on the day he "scattered money."
That day, this mother dog had curled up next to a dying homeless man, obsessively licking the man's freezing fingers.
The homeless man died, she was kicked by a passing gangster, and in the end, she still dragged her limping leg back to this alley.
Now, she had died here, leaving an even more pitiful existence behind in this world.
"Hey, buddies, did you get the wrong ball for your soccer practice?"
Chen Mo crouched on the trash can lid.
The three thugs whipped their heads around.
"Spider-Man? Oh, you changed into a new suit. This one looks pretty cool."
The leader was just about to reach for the dagger at his lower back.
"Thanks. Seriously, you're the first person today to praise my suit for looking cool."
Chen Mo's speed was like a flash of lightning tearing through the dark night.
A web precisely stuck to the other man's wrist, followed by a violent yank.
Crack.
It was the sound of a joint dislocating.
"Kicking it felt pretty good just now, didn't it?"
Chen Mo delivered a sidekick right into the chest of another thug.
The man flew backward as if struck by a speeding truck, crashing heavily against the wall with a dull thud.
The third man was terrified out of his mind and turned to run.
With a flick of his right hand, Chen Mo's web wrapped around his ankle as if it possessed a life of its own.
"Don't leave yet. Let's chat about the Gotham Amendment to the Animal Protection Act."
In less than ten seconds.
The three men were webbed back-to-back into a massive ball of flesh, hanging high up on the streetlight pole.
"Help! My ribs are broken!"
"Shut up. With my controlled strength, it's impossible for your ribs to be broken. When the police arrive, remember to tell them you flew up there because gravity was unstable."
Chen Mo clapped his hands, his ruthless demeanor instantly vanishing without a trace.
He walked over to the corner and slowly crouched down.
The puppy shrank into the shadows, shivering like a leaf, its clear eyes filled entirely with terror.
Chen Mo fell silent for a few seconds.
He reached out his hand, his movements so gentle it was as if he feared awakening from a beautiful dream.
The puppy instinctively tried to hide, but its broken hind leg made it whimper in pain.
"Shh, don't be afraid. I'm not a bad guy."
Chen Mo scooped it up from the cold ground and placed it into his embrace.
He pulled the remaining half of the compressed biscuit out of his pouch, crushed it into fine crumbs with his fingers, and fed it bit by bit into the puppy's mouth.
The puppy tentatively licked his fingers.
It was a warm sensation.
Its tail wagged weakly, like a flame about to burn out in the cold wind.
Staring at that wagging tail, Chen Mo suddenly felt his nose grow a bit sour.
He looked left and right, confirming that apart from the three half-dead pieces of garbage hanging from the streetlight, there were no other living people in the alley.
And those three on the streetlight were currently being blown by the wind, so they could only see toward the street entrance and not over here.
Mm, excellent. No one was paying attention.
Chen Mo pulled up the lower half of his mask, brought his mouth close, and planted several fierce kisses right onto the puppy's forehead.
One round wasn't enough, so he gave it another round.
Heheh.
"Listen, little guy, you are absolutely not allowed to tell anyone about what happened today," Chen Mo threatened fiercely.
"If anyone finds out that Spider-Man kissed a dog, I'll turn you into a hot dog, you hear me?"
The puppy looked like it understood, yet also didn't quite understand. It simply stuck out its pink little tongue and gently licked Chen Mo's chin.
Looking at the dog in his arms, Chen Mo began to ponder the most practical issue.
"I need to give you a name."
He stroked his chin, lost in thought.
"How about Wangcai? No, no one in this territory would understand it. Sounds too rustic."
"How about Wade? Forget it, I actually quite like him."
A thought suddenly flashed through Chen Mo's mind.
He remembered the massive Bat-Signal he had just seen on the tower.
He thought of that big, dark bat who always hid in the shadows, looking at everyone as if they owed him five million dollars.
"Got it."
Chen Mo looked down at the puppy, an extremely mischievous grin surfacing at the corners of his mouth.
"Your name will be Bruce."
"This name will definitely open doors for you in Gotham, absolutely no doubt about it."
He paused, feeling that the name he picked was simply too brilliant.
"Bruce, from now on, the two of us will be the greatest duo in this crappy place."
The puppy seemed very satisfied with the name, its tail wagging with more vigor than before.
Ten meters away, within the shadows at the top of the clock tower.
A tall figure perfectly blended into the darkness.
Bruce Wayne--or rather, Batman--was silently watching everything in the alley.
He had originally come here following the Bat-Signal, only to stumble upon this scene.
Suit upgraded.
He recorded rapidly on his portable terminal. Ballistic nylon material, featuring non-industrially processed titanium alloy patches. Evident signs of hand-sewing.
This meant the boy didn't have a massive organization supporting him; he was improving his equipment bit by bit with his own two hands.
Then, he witnessed the boy kissing the dog's head.
And he also heard that name.
It was a bit far away, but remember, Bruce Wayne could read lips.
"Bruce."
In that instant, Batman's eyelid twitched.
Concealed beneath the cowl, no one could see just how spectacular the Dark Knight's current expression was.
It was a complex reaction somewhere between speechlessness, absurdity, and an indescribable emotion.
Under the "Spider-Man" file on his terminal, he added a new tag.
Danger Level: Lowered.
Notes: Severely lacks social common sense. Displays a serious inclination toward sarcasm and witty banter. Suggest continuous observation of his psychological health.
Batman slipped backward soundlessly, like a drop of water merging into the ocean.
Sitting at the end of the alley, Chen Mo still had no idea that his recent "heroic deed" had been completely witnessed by the very subject he frequently used for mockery.
He carefully stabilized the puppy's broken hind leg with his webbing. Although his technique was unpracticed, its saving grace was that it was sturdy.
"Let's go, Bruce. Taking you back to our leaky mansion."
He stood up and glanced back at the corpse of the mother dog.
There was no dirt here, nor was there a shovel.
He picked up a reasonably clean piece of cardboard from Gotham's debris and covered the mother dog's body with it.
Then, he moved the mother dog's corpse to a corner sheltered from the wind.
"Even if it's useless..." Chen Mo murmured softly.
Holding Bruce in his arms, he shot out a strand of web, and his entire body soared into the air.
The red-and-blue figure vanished into the night.
Cradled in his embrace, Bruce snuggled inside the suit, feeling one of the very few sources of warmth this world provided.
As Chen Mo swung along, he was still muttering to himself.
"Naming a dog Bruce shouldn't count as insulting the police, right?"
"Whatever, it's not like he knows anyway."
"Vigilantes aren't even part of the official establishment..."
In the distance, a new Bat-Signal flashed against the cloud layer, as if silently responding to his question.