Batman's long-term objective had never changed.
He needed to build his own business empire.
Only after establishing sufficient influence and financial weight could he openly cooperate with the mysterious organization that controlled the Tesseract—and through that cooperation, gain access to it.
Before reaching that level, a mere field Agent was not worth his time.
Invading the Homeland Strategic Defense, Counterattack and Logistics Support Bureau, Batman focused solely on one thing:
supernatural phenomena.
Anything related to unknown powers.
Anything involving time travel.
The computer he was using belonged to the Manhattan Police Department. Batman made no effort to hide his IP address—there was no need. Even if the other side traced it, this machine would lead them nowhere meaningful.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Batman searched methodically through the organization's internal system, counting time silently in his head.
He knew exactly who had activated the Bat-Signal on the police station rooftop.
He also knew that Agent Phil Coulson had already received the message.
Batman had obtained all of his information.
Only after calculating that Coulson would soon return to the police station did Batman close the system, open the window, and leave without a sound.
No hesitation.
No lingering.
After confirming no one was tailing him, Batman used the extreme maneuverability of his Batarangs to vault between skyscrapers, changing direction midair and heading straight for Queens.
---
"The listening network deployed in Osborn Manor has detected movement," Batman thought calmly.
"There's the sound of a mechanism activating… inside Norman Osborn's study."
"There's a hidden room."
"It's late. Why would Norman enter it now?"
Without the Batmobile, Batman relied solely on momentum, timing, and precision as he continued swinging across the city.
As he passed above the Queens Police Station, Batman glanced down.
Among the group of cigarette dealers he had bound earlier—
Black Cat was gone.
Batman showed no reaction.
He had deliberately refrained from seriously injuring the woman named Ellie back on Roosevelt Island. That decision had not come from mercy.
It was strategy.
Ellie's testimony would reinforce the narrative that Batman avoided harming women, providing Kingpin with just enough doubt to prevent suspicion from falling on Black Cat.
As long as Kingpin hesitated—even slightly—Black Cat's cover would hold.
Whoosh!
A Batarang sliced through the air, embedding itself firmly into the ground beside the bound dealers.
By the time it struck, Batman had already vanished into the night.
---
At Osborn Manor, Batman activated the night vision and sonar integrated into his helmet.
Combined with the layout he memorized earlier while walking the estate with Harry Osborn, finding Norman Osborn's bedroom took almost no effort.
Batman attached himself to the outer wall near the window.
His Bat-gloves' magnetic adhesion—combined with Peter Parker's natural wall-crawling ability—held him steady as stone.
The listening network was silent.
The sonar showed the room was empty.
Batman didn't hesitate.
He drew his lock-picking tools, opened the window from the outside, and slipped in without a sound.
---
"Little Bat… Little Bat~"
High above the city, Norman Osborn had already donned his combat suit.
The Green Goblin streaked across the night sky atop his glider, laughing softly to himself.
"You killed Spencer."
"You ruined Otto's experiment."
"You lit the Bat-Signal."
"I'm coming for you, Little Bat~"
His face twisted beneath the mask as he banked sharply, heading straight toward Manhattan.
The Bat-Signal burned through the clouds, unmistakable.
The Green Goblin dove into the beam like a moth chasing flame.
"Ehehehe! A police station?" he cackled. "So Little Bat works with cops?"
He landed on the rooftop of the Manhattan Police Department, circling once.
No Batman.
That didn't bother him.
Laughing wildly, he tossed down two pumpkin bombs.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The bombs rolled across the rooftop.
Green light flared.
Then—
BOOM!
A violent explosion ripped through the roof. Antennas bent and snapped like toys. Radio equipment disintegrated under the blast. Thick smoke and debris shot skyward.
Lights flickered on in nearby apartments as residents rushed to their windows.
Above it all, the Green Goblin's manic laughter echoed through the night.
---
Screech!
Agent Phil Coulson rushed into the police station—only to find Batman already gone.
He turned to leave, frustration tightening his jaw.
Then the explosion lit up the sky behind him.
Coulson slammed the brakes.
"Director," he said into his earpiece, staring at the burning rooftop. "The police station has been attacked. Identity unconfirmed. It may not be Batman."
"Priority is rescuing detainees and securing the building," the Director replied.
"Yes, Director."
Coulson spun the wheel, floored the accelerator, and raced back toward the chaos.
---
Beep. Identity verified.
Back inside Osborn Manor, Batman cracked through a heavily encrypted system in Norman Osborn's study using the miniature computer mounted on his forearm.
With a soft mechanical hum, the bookshelf filled with financial and management texts slowly slid aside.
Behind it—
darkness.
Batman stepped forward without hesitation, passing through a narrow corridor illuminated by faint green light.
He entered a hidden chamber.
The eerie glow painted the room in sickly colors, but Batman remained unmoved.
He had seen far worse.
Pumpkin bombs.
Green blades.
Goblin gliders identical to those deployed during Osborn Group's earlier incidents.
Throwing knives, ammunition, micro-missiles.
A private armory.
Batman ignored the weapons.
He searched for proof.
Something that tied Norman Osborn directly to the tragedy on Osborn Group's third underground level.
Slowly.
Methodically.
He searched every inch.
Then—at the edge of the room—he found it.
A suit.
Its hem was scuffed and torn.
The moment Batman lifted it, recognition struck.
"High-grade silk," he thought.
"When Black Cat and I investigated the third basement, we found silk fibers at a damaged workbench."
"The killer was well-dressed."
"And intimately familiar with Osborn Group."
Batman's eyes narrowed.
"Norman Osborn."
But a new thought followed immediately.
"The Spencer family died at night."
"If Norman is the killer… is he out killing again tonight?"
Batman turned—
Just as the listening network picked up approaching footsteps outside the study.
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