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The Spider-person has saved them three times. Bruce keeps counts. Today someone sabotaged a train they were all on — civilian clothes, no suits, no way to be anything else. The brakes stopped responding. The end of the track was visible. Then the figure on the roof. Webs anchored to every fixed point available. The train slowing against a load that should have been impossible, held by someone at the absolute limit of what they could manage. The train stopped. Several hundred people exhaled. Bruce looked up through the window at the figure sitting on the roof in the aftermath — the specific posture of someone who had just given everything and was still accounting for whether it was sustainable. He filed it. All of it. Dick was already moving toward the door.