Peter's eyes widened in surprise, lowering his hands as he stared at Soren, "Isn't it because of me... that you... got hurt so badly by Killer Croc?"
Soren frowned.
He thought for a moment, then asked, "You don't seriously think... that Killer Croc could have hurt me that badly, do you?"
It seemed like Soren had just heard something unbelievable.
He raised an eyebrow and gestured for the young man to come closer, "Come here."
Peter obediently dragged his chair forward by about ten inches, sliding closer to Soren.
But he was immediately smacked on the hand by him.
"Do you seriously underestimate me that much?" Soren said, almost offended, "Do you really think Killer Croc could've hurt me that badly?"
Peter instinctively pulled his hand back, startled, his gaze shooting up—only to find himself caught in Soren's deep blue eyes.
Those blue eyes were as mesmerizing as an ocean sparkling with starlight.
For a brief moment, Peter fell into that ocean, dazed, unable to utter a single word.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Soren said softly, his voice rough from exhaustion as he stared into Peter's wide, shining eyes, "Don't apologize. If it'll make you feel better, I'll sign something for you, alright?"
Peter stammered, "I wasn't—"
"Got it, got it, I'll sign," Soren said, waving a hand dismissively as if he couldn't argue with him.
He turned over, looking toward Steve for a pen and paper, I'll sign if that'll shut you up."
Steve, looking concerned, helped Soren sit upright again. "Soren, your hand—"
Oh.
Soren glanced down at his hands.
Each finger was wrapped tightly in white gauze.
There was no way he could hold a pen, let alone give Peter an autograph.
Soren let out a dry chuckle.
"Looks like you'll have to wait a while for that signature, Peter," he said, feigning frustration as though this were just some minor inconvenience.
He avoided mentioning the gravity of everything that had happened, instead trying to act as if things were the same as before, when they were both younger and more carefree.
But deep down, he knew that those days felt as distant as another lifetime.
Peter's heart ached.
He braced himself against the chair's arms, swallowing hard. "Th-that's okay... whenever you're ready is fine."
He shot a quick glance at Soren, then quickly looked away, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum.
Suddenly, Peter stood up.
The metal blades of his mechanical spider legs retracted slightly, closing over the joints.
His expression was flustered, nervous.
"I should get going! I just remembered there's something I need to take care of…" he said, hurriedly.
"Peter?" Steve asked, puzzled, watching him closely.
From the moment Peter had brought Soren back, he had been waiting outside the hospital room.
Even when the medical staff performed surgery on Soren, Peter insisted on staying outside the operating room.
Yet now, after barely exchanging a few words, he was making excuses to leave?
Peter didn't offer much explanation.
His gaze flitted nervously, and he quickly mumbled a hasty "I'm leaving" to Soren before rushing out of the room.
Even Steve couldn't get him to stop.
Soren's expression remained calm.
He softly said, "Let him go."
His long lashes cast a soft, shadowy fringe across his face.
"Captain, I want to see Batman."
Steve hesitated.
His hand hovered in the air as if weighing something, before he slowly replied, "You really should rest a bit longer."
"I'm fine," Soren insisted, "I need to see him."
Steve, known for being as stubborn as an old block of ice, finally realized there was someone more stubborn than him.
Unable to argue further, he sighed, helping Soren out of bed.
He carefully dressed him in a loose, light-colored hospital gown, and then guided him toward Batman's treatment room.
The largest underground base of the Resistance, this facility had once been a lead mine buried more than a thousand meters below the Pacific Ocean.
Over the years, after countless modifications, it had transformed into a massive refuge, capable of housing tens of thousands.
Though the setup was simple, with heavy lead-lined walls at every corner and barely any decoration other than exposed wiring and life-support systems, the facility was well-equipped and meticulously designed.
The external defense system, co-designed by Iron Man and Batman, was sophisticated enough to obscure Superman's X-ray vision, keeping this underground base hidden from his sight in the vast expanse of the ocean.
Soren's room was separated from Batman's intensive care unit by a long corridor.
The dim lights of the hallway barely illuminated the path.
The ground was dry, but the air was thick with the combined scent of disinfectant and the salty tang of the sea.
A tall, blonde warrior approached them.
He wore a faded camouflage jacket, his chest solid and his shoulders and arms showing the outline of well-defined muscles beneath his clothing.
With a narrow waist and long legs, he radiated an aura of vitality.
Behind him followed about a dozen men, all similarly scanning their surroundings.
Each one was tall and robust, walking with a steady and powerful stride.
Soren quickly deduced that this group were likely professional soldiers with military training.
Soren's gaze instinctively settled on the leader of the group, the blonde man, and his pupils constricted slightly.
He stopped in his tracks, gazing at the face of the blonde warrior with a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
He asked, "Are you… Whitney?"
The blonde hair soldier, who had just saluted Steve, froze in place.
Only then did he shift his gaze to Soren, his brow furrowing slightly.
He replied in a deep voice, "...Soren Hargreaves?"
In truth, Soren's current appearance was somewhat similar to his past self, but his distinctly different hair color made it hard to recognize him at first glance.
Yet Whitney had instantly identified him.
Soren was slightly taken aback.
He scrutinized Whitney, and Whitney did the same to him.
The Whitney before him was almost unrecognizable compared to the high school student from his distant memories.