Unlikely Celebrations

Soren looked at Bruce walking towards the workbench and said in surprise, "You can walk on your own, Bruce!"

Ignoring the sharp pain in his lower back, Bruce responded with a calm, matter-of-fact, "Yes."

Soren, however, felt a bit concerned.

He still remembered the intense pain Bruce endured when he first started walking.

He reached out his hand, saying, "Let me help you, Bruce."

Bruce didn't even glance at him, instead sidestepping his hand and heading to the workbench to pull out a chair.

Soren followed, frowning slightly, the red on his nose from the cold outside turning to a faint pink in the warmth of the room.

Leaning against the edge of the table, he said, "Bruce, I think you don't have to push yourself so hard. The recovery process is bound to be very long—"

"Try this."

Bruce interrupted him, picking up a black, disk-shaped object from the lab table and tossing it to Soren.

"What is this?" Soren caught it, examined it, and quickly realized, "This is… a jammer?"

Bruce gave a low, gruff sound from his throat, confirming Soren's guess.

He looked up at Soren, his gaze briefly landing on his red nose before shifting away. "I've adjusted the soundwave jammer. It now masks your heartbeat and speech, is bulletproof and pressure-resistant, and includes an emergency signal transmitter. You can contact me directly if necessary."

Soren directly lifted the hem of his hoodie, removing the shield generator he had originally modified himself and replacing it with the new one.

The new shield generator adhered effortlessly between his ribs like the suckers of an octopus's tentacle, requiring no additional securing, making it both convenient and sturdy.

Soren was clearly delighted.

He touched the shield generator, unable to hide his affection: "Thank you, Bruce, you're the best!"

Bruce turned his face away.

He scrutinized the various screens in front of him, the fluorescent display flickering with changing frames, casting shifting lights and shadows on his face.

After admiring the new shield generator that Batman had made for him, Soren suddenly noticed a very familiar component on Bruce's workbench.

He picked up the part and asked, "What is this...?"

"A defective model," Bruce replied.

Soren looked at the component with some confusion.

He felt like he had seen something with this structure before… where could it be—

A distant memory suddenly surfaced.

He froze for a moment and then looked sharply at Bruce: "Are you making a gravity field generator?"

"No."

Bruce's voice grew serious as he took the "model" from Soren, "Close, but no. It's just a backup plan, and it's still missing some crucial elements."

—That's probably one of Batman's backup plans numbered in the hundreds, Soren thought.

But he was still curious, so he asked, "What crucial elements?"

Bruce looked at the screens and remained silent.

Soren knew this was probably something Bruce didn't want to reveal.

At this point, no matter how much he asked, he wouldn't get an answer.

He could only awkwardly touch his nose, making it even redder.

After chatting with Bruce in the infirmary for a while, Soren was quickly ushered out.

Batman was always like that—cold and unapproachable, insisting that Soren was a nuisance staying inside.

Soren could only return to his dorm after being kicked out, thinking about blowing off some steam by bothering Peter.

To his surprise, Peter mysteriously led him down a corridor at the bottom of the base.

"Wait, wait, where are you taking me??"

As Soren noticed they were heading deeper and deeper, nearly reaching 1500 meters below ground, he realized they were in the base's infrastructure zone, surrounded by pipes and wiring, and rarely populated.

For a moment, Soren almost suspected that Peter Parker, having been bullied too much, was finally retaliating by dragging him down here to secretly let loose and give him a beating.

"You'll find out when you get there," Peter stubbornly refused to divulge any information.

This was the first time Peter Parker had been so tight-lipped.

Soren was even more puzzled about what could be so important that Peter would keep it a secret.

Following Peter down the corridor, they finally turned into a cramped, cluttered storage room.

The small room was filled with construction tools from when the underground base was built, with two shelves overflowing with equipment.

However, a relatively clean tablecloth covered the floor, and Soren's other two teammates—Whitney and Kong Kenan—were sitting on the ground waiting for them.

On the table were two roasted chickens, a piece of ham sausage, a plate of cornbread, along with various nuts, yogurt, and a plate of dumplings.

But what caught Soren's eye even more than the food were the two dozen cans of beer stacked on the side!

Soren was stunned, his mouth hanging open: "Where did you guys get the alcohol?"

Drinking alcohol was prohibited in the base, and with the current shortage of supplies, alcohol was a rare commodity.

It was impressive enough to get any alcoholic beverage, let alone beer.

Kong Kenan proudly raised his hand: "I did, I did! When we went out today, I took a detour and got some from elsewhere."

Soren looked at him skeptically: "Did you pay for it? You're off the grid; how did you get credit to buy supplies from outside?"

Kong Kenan immediately looked aggrieved: "I didn't take it for free! I got it from a small shop run by Russians. I negotiated the price and helped unload all the goods!"

"No way, this is too dangerous. What if he reports you to the ruling government? Did you wear a mask? Did he recognize you?" Soren pressed on with questions.

Whitney, sitting nearby, snorted in disdain: "Can you just chill, Hargreaves? He just wanted to celebrate the New Year and let us have a decent meal."

"But wasn't it your idea?" Kong Kenan immediately undermined him.

Whitney nearly lost his composure.

He glared at Kong Kenan: "You goddamn—"

"Soren, come over and sit here!"

The argument didn't reach Peter.