Bam!
The fist slammed heavily into the face, instantly twisting the beaten features into a lopsided grimace, with tears, snot, and blood spurting out all at once, like a dam bursting open.
The fist unclenched and flexed its fingers; the dark red nylon material of the suit was already soaked with blood.
In Hell's Kitchen, inside a small casino hidden beneath a rundown building, Daredevil was taking down one after another of Kingpin's gang members.
Splat—
A spray of blood splattered onto a lightbulb, causing white smoke to rise as the bulb popped and shattered.
This was the casino's last tungsten filament lamp; once it went out, the place was left with only the dim yet colorful light strips scattered around.
"Brother—no, Father! This is just a small casino, with regular customers coming and going. I don't know how I offended you!"
The casino boss was short and fat; he was pinned against the throat by Daredevil's billy club after the vigilante had crossed the long hallway.
Behind Daredevil, the hallway was littered with casino staff and gang members lying on the ground, unsure if they were dead or alive. Now, with his own throat pressed by the short club, the casino boss swallowed hard:
"Are you here to rob money, or what? We don't have any sex trade here, but if you need it, I can introduce you to one..."
Bam!
Daredevil punched the wall right next to the casino boss's head:
"When did you join Kingpin's gang?"
"A-about two weeks ago?"
"Tell me everything you know about Kingpin's hideouts." Daredevil pulled back the billy club, grabbed the boss by the collar with both hands, lifted him up, and slammed him against the wall.
"J-just that sex trade spot..." The casino boss's legs flailed wildly as he hurried to shout.
"...Give me the address." Daredevil said after a few seconds of silence.
The casino boss quickly spilled the location, then took a heavy punch to the gut, curling up and collapsing to the floor. He could only watch helplessly as the guy who'd wrecked his casino strode away.
Ten minutes later, in a motel in Hell's Kitchen, an old man in the midst of vigorous thrusting stared in terror at the dark red figure bursting through the window. The thick stench of blood on the intruder made him go limp as overcooked spaghetti.
Bam!
The dull thuds of fists meeting flesh and screams echoed one after another in the motel room bathed in purplish-red hazy light.
On the third underground level of the Osborn Group, Batman and Black Cat split up the moment they entered.
Black Cat pulled out a small flashlight and meticulously examined the traces of destruction bit by bit. Batman, meanwhile, approached the damaged workstation.
He raised his arm, and the armor covering the outer side of his forearm slid open silently, ejecting a miniature computer that Batman had assembled himself.
He needed to check if the equipment on this underground level had been used last night.
"It wasn't Kingpin who caused this destruction," Black Cat said a few minutes later as she came over to Batman's side. "What have you found?"
As her words fell, Batman retracted the computer back under his armor:
"Last night, this equipment was turned on and used... The Osborn Group is conducting human experiments."
With that, both their gazes almost simultaneously landed on the transparent octagonal cage, about ten square meters in size.
"Without a large server for support, the computer I have configured right now can't analyze the scene traces at all."
This suit didn't have "detective mode" to assist Batman in gathering clues, but he himself was a detective.
Batman stepped into the transparent octagonal cage on his own, using his body to simulate the subject who had undergone the human experiment last night.
"Black Cat, shine the light on that corner for me." Batman pointed to the front left.
Black Cat carefully avoided the debris and shards on the floor, directing the flashlight to the spot Batman requested.
"The perpetrator's build is like an average person's, likely male, with no extra limbs or offensive weapons. The killer isn't Doctor Octopus."
"From all the traces of destruction, the researchers didn't take any countermeasures..."
Batman simulated the experimental subject's every move in his mind—from breaking free of the metal restraints to shattering the transparent octagonal cage, then killing the researchers one by one.
His footsteps followed the simulation in his brain, with Black Cat holding the small flashlight and trailing closely behind. Finally, the two stopped in a corner.
"The experimental subject killed the last person here."
"Based on the traces, the last surviving researcher crawled a distance and knelt begging for mercy, but was still grabbed by the throat and torn apart by the perpetrator."
Batman looked at the blood splatter on the nearby wall.
"I'm going to check the building's surveillance footage; hopefully it hasn't been tampered with." Batman turned to Black Cat. "What are your plans next?"
But Black Cat didn't speak; instead, her gaze was fixed on a sharp metal fracture at the destroyed workstation.
There was a strand of thread there, hard to notice, now swaying gently in the faint breeze from their movements.
Black Cat was about to reach out when Batman suddenly stopped her:
"Don't touch it."
With that, Batman began simulating the killer's actions in his mind again:
Following the researchers into the third underground level, taking off the shirt, entering the octagonal cage... As the experiment proceeded, the subject broke the octagonal cage, killed everyone present, and retrieved the removed shirt from under the destroyed workstation.
"This strand of thread is made of silk, typically used for high-end suits. The experimental subject wasn't a homeless person, but some man wearing a silk suit."
Batman didn't remove the silk strand; instead, he pulled Black Cat along and left the third underground level. On the second underground level, he turned on the computer there.
"I'm hacking into the building's internal surveillance system. Keep watch for me," Batman said to Black Cat.
Black Cat nodded obediently. She didn't know if this cold-as-stone guy—who always had high-tech gadgets and could summon bats—was even human.
But from the moment they entered the third underground level, the professionalism Batman displayed had convinced Black Cat to just follow orders.
"Starting queries from the 25th floor surveillance, elevator surveillance, stairwell surveillance, underground parking surveillance..."
Batman rapidly sifted through the surveillance data. He found that all footage from yesterday had been completely deleted, with not a trace left.
"Wearing a high-end suit, aware of the Osborn internal surveillance and deleted it, not present when I observed, likely entered the building via the underground parking after leaving..."
Not many people fit these conditions. Among those Batman knew, there were only two:
Harry Osborn and Norman Osborn.
"I need to find time to pay Harry a visit and look for a chance to hack into the surveillance footage near his home."
Batman noted this in his mind, then moved on to the second task for tonight: finding Doctor Octopus.
Compared to the killer who had murdered seven researchers, Doctor Octopus—who had fought police in the Brooklyn sewers during the day and killed over thirty people—was equally dangerous.
All the tools Batman had bought and assembled during the day were prepared for tracking Doctor Octopus tonight.