"Remind me how old you are now?" Because he's really not great at judging ages, but Peter doesn't look a lot older than fifteen now.

Among the perhaps unnecessary infodump, what Bruce gets from Peter is that not only is the web fluid a finite resource, but his idea will probably entirely deplete it.

"Okay, we're ditching that idea. I have a new plan. Um... Watch for rats while I do this." He kicks some debris out of his way, glances speculatively in the direction where most of the rats are coming from, then orients himself perpendicular to it before balling both hands into fists and bringing them down on the ground with all his might.

He can feel the reverberation of the impact in his chest, and a crack opens in the ground ahead of him.

He takes a step back and strikes the ground again, both widening the crack and lengthening it. Another step and another blow, then another, and another until he's opened a deep fissure he can pry at with the flagpole.

If science doesn't do the trick, there's always brute force. "Okay, kid, grab a pry bar and help me open this up some more."

He remembers the footage of the airport fight; the kid's got a lot more muscle than that skinny frame lets on.