These thugs, who usually commit all kinds of evil, suddenly see a little child standing in front of them, claiming he will destroy them on behalf of the moon. There's no reason for them not to despise their opponent—if anything, it's downright ridiculous.
Even when the real Spider-Man first debuted, he was mocked and underestimated by villains. Let alone now, with this short-legged Spider-Boy.
"What's wrong with this world? Even kids are out here trying to be heroes. Don't adults care?" One of the gangsters waved his gun fiercely and tried to shoo them away rudely. "Get out of here, kid, or I'll kill you!"
"Be careful, sir," Peter Parker said, stretching out his hand. A web shot out with a "whoosh," wrapping around the gangster's gun and snatching it away.
At the same time, Peter Parker remembered the line Ross taught him and quickly added, "Eat my white spray!"
From the rooftop, Ross heard this, shrugged, and let out a strange chuckle.
The gangster looked down, his face suddenly darkening.
"Fuck, kill him!" The burly man was furious that his gun had been stolen by a little kid.
The other two gangsters didn't hesitate. They raised their guns and started shooting.
Killing men, women, young or old—it was all the same to them. The word "mercy" didn't exist in their vocabulary.
Faced with the incoming bullets, Spider-Man flipped backward, dodged, and leaped. His movements were absurdly agile, and he kept talking, "I dodge, I dodge, I dodge—ah, I got hit."
Watching from the rooftop, Ross held his forehead. Spider-Man was talking twice as much as usual.
"Web them up," Ross instructed through the headset.
"Got it, man!" Peter Parker replied. He stretched out his left hand and shot a web, then fired another with his right hand, first snatching away the guns from the two remaining gangsters before pulling them away.
Then, he stuck a web to one gangster's foot and yanked. The thug crashed to the ground, unable to resist the ridiculous strength Peter possessed for a child. Peter jumped high and anchored a web to a nearby railing.
The gangster screamed as he was hoisted into the air, left hanging upside down just half a meter above the ground.
The other two gangsters finally realized something was wrong. This kid wasn't normal!
But it was too late.
Peter Parker repeated the process, webbing up the remaining two gangsters and stringing them up together. Now, all three dangled in the night, heads facing downward.
To keep them from making noise, Ross reminded Spider-Man to shut them up.
So Peter Parker sealed their mouths with webbing. "Eat my white spray!"
Still worried, he jumped up and down, reinforcing their bindings with extra webbing. Within two minutes, the three gangsters had been transformed into oversized white cocoons, swaying in the night breeze.
The little spider curiously walked over, picked up a pistol from the ground, and examined it. Suddenly, two gunshots rang out—the gun had accidentally fired. Startled, he tossed it away like a hot potato.
On the rooftop, Ross held his forehead again and sighed. "I was going to give you full marks. Now? Zero."
"Man, ask them where Wilson Fisk is," Ross instructed.
"Alright, guys." Spider-Man stepped forward, relayed the question to the gangsters, and peeled the webbing off one of their mouths.
"Law—"
Before the man could finish, Spider-Man slapped the webbing back on.
"Your turn, sir. Keep it quiet. It's late, and people are asleep. If your answer satisfies me, I'll let you go," Spider-Man said innocently, tearing the seal off another thug's mouth.
The gangster felt dizzy. His brain was congested from hanging upside down. Desperate to get down, he blurted out, "We never mention his name. You messed with the wrong guy, kid."
Peter Parker glanced toward Ross, seeking guidance.
On the rooftop, Ross scoffed. "Can't mention names? What is this, Voldemort?"
Honestly, Ross had no intention of getting real intel on Kingpin from these small-time thugs. Wilson Fisk was a cunning fox, hidden deep in the shadows. Even Christina couldn't track him.
He was about to say something when his eyes suddenly flicked toward the rooftop of a nearby building.
A shadow darted across the rooftop, moving swiftly.
Raising his binoculars, Ross muttered in surprise, "Huh, Daredevil?"
The figure was dressed in a tight black-and-red leather suit, agile and nimble. In just a few moments, he had reached the rooftop across the street, crouching as he surveyed the scene below—right where Spider-Man was.
Clearly, the two accidental gunshots had caught Daredevil's attention. He had been nearby all along.
"Weren't we just investigating Esmeralda's toxic baby formula operation? Did we finish that case?" Ross thought, keeping quiet and refraining from giving Spider-Man any further instructions.
Daredevil swiftly maneuvered down from the rooftop, landing smoothly on the street.
He strode toward Spider-Man, first glancing at the three webbed-up gangsters, then turning his attention to Peter Parker. His voice was deep and commanding. "Who are you?"
"You—who are you?" This wasn't part of Ross's script. Without clear instructions, Spider-Man was momentarily confused.
Ross debated whether to coach Spider-Man through his headset. But then he stopped himself.
What was one of Daredevil's greatest abilities? Hearing.
Forget the headset—Matt Murdock could probably hear a mosquito's wings flapping like it was a full-blown explosion.
If Ross spoke now, he'd expose himself instantly.
Matt continued, "I've heard rumors of a small guy taking on gangs in Hell's Kitchen. Is that you?"
Before Spider-Man could answer, Matt added, "No… Your heartbeat is strong. You're a child?" His voice carried genuine surprise.
Daredevil was taken aback. The fact that this kid had subdued three gangsters so quickly was impressive. But the real shock? This was just a child. His enhanced senses never lied.
On the rooftop, Ross observed closely, his mind racing. He shifted slightly, but the movement caused a few pebbles beneath his feet to shift, producing a barely audible sound.
A noise most wouldn't notice—except Daredevil.
"Is that your friend up there?" Daredevil asked Spider-Man.
Sure enough, he had heard it. Ross frowned. Damn, this guy's hearing was insane.
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