It hadn't been more than a few minutes since Batman uncovered the data on the genetically mutated spider when Black Cat let out a delighted gasp:
"I found something too!"
It was a shareholder agreement from Oscorp, clearly stating in black and white that Wilson Fisk—better known as Kingpin—held a ten percent stake in the company.
The ink on the document still carried a fresh scent, and the date showed that Kingpin had acquired his shares just a few days ago.
Black Cat's face lit up with unbridled excitement, her rapid breathing nearly popping the zipper of her plunging leather outfit.
"What's your next move?" Batman asked in a low voice.
The excitement on Black Cat's face froze, replaced by a look of uncertainty. "I… don't know," she admitted. "Go back and Google it?"
"No," Batman replied. He wasn't just Batman; he had once been the head of Wayne Enterprises. "First, answer me this: how did Kingpin get the money to invest in Oscorp?"
"Swallowing up other gangs, drug trafficking, arms dealing…" Black Cat wasn't slow. Her eyes soon sparkled with realization.
"Exactly," Batman said. "Those are all 'dirty money.' What Kingpin's doing now is laundering it through investments to make it 'clean.' Find a lawyer to sue him, and you can invalidate his investment. It might even land him in prison."
"Just like that…?"
Black Cat could hardly believe it. In her mind, toppling Kingpin's criminal empire to avenge her father would take years. But with Batman's insight, the solution suddenly seemed within reach.
A sweet smile spread across her face, and she turned to throw her arms around him in gratitude. But in Norman Osborn's office, she found herself alone—Batman had vanished without a trace.
In the sewers, Batman was now swinging swiftly through the tunnels using webbing, tracking the trail left by Squid.
Squid's distinctive stench stood out even in the rancid air of the sewers, and it didn't take Batman long to locate his hideout.
There, he found seven or eight suitcases of varying sizes, each stuffed with cash paid to Squid by New York's criminal underworld. The largest held a whopping five million dollars.
In total, the haul amounted to over seven million, six hundred thousand dollars.
"The Batsuit requires ordering parts in bulk to avoid drawing attention," Batman mused, frowning at the pile of cash. "This isn't nearly enough."
Deep in the abandoned shipyard, Batman stared at the stacked bills, his brow furrowed.
Crafting a Batsuit identical to his previous model would cost at least ten million dollars—not because a single suit was that expensive, but because the suit was, in theory, a consumable. Ordering parts in small quantities would raise red flags with suppliers, and anyone with enough determination could trace the purchases back to him.
Under these constraints, Batman had no choice but to order components in bulk.
But he wasn't about to claim all seven million-plus dollars for himself. Strictly speaking, this was blood money, paid for the lives of those killed by Squid. If the dead were nothing but bloodstained gangsters, Batman wouldn't hesitate to use the funds to arm himself. But he couldn't be sure there weren't innocent victims among them.
"I need to monitor Chief George Stacy's investigation into Squid's crimes," he decided. "The evidence they collect will include details about the identities of the victims. Only then can I decide how to handle this money."
The sun rose slowly, heralding a new day.
Batman had rested for less than an hour before shedding his disguise and slipping into a checkered shirt, resuming the identity of Peter Parker. He stepped out to buy a copy of the Daily Bugle and returned to Peter Parker's rented apartment.
The newspaper contained no reports about Oscorp's human experiments, only a photo of "Spider-Man" swinging through New York City, accompanied by the headline: "Fleeing Justice or Turning Over a New Leaf? Spider-Man Has Been Missing for Four Days!"
Batman ignored it.
Aside from the Spider-Man coverage, the front page focused on one story: the military was scheduled to visit Oscorp today, and the company would be closed to the public for the day.
The military…
Batman suspected the video evidence he'd sent to the Daily Bugle last night hadn't been published, and the military's involvement might be the reason why.
Knock, knock, knock! A young woman's voice followed the sound at the door. "Peter, you've got a phone call."
"My phone?" Batman opened the door to find an unfamiliar young woman standing there. She wasn't conventionally beautiful, with her hair tied into two braids and a slender frame.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm the landlord's daughter. You forgot?" She smiled shyly. "I'm Ursula." Handing him the phone, she stepped back.
As Ursula returned to her own apartment across the hall, Batman picked up the receiver. "This is Peter."
"Peter? It's May." The voice on the other end belonged to a kind, elderly woman. "It's Saturday today. You need to come home."
Batman fell silent. He knew exactly who she was, and that was precisely why, since crossing into this world, he hadn't reached out to her.
May Parker, Peter's aunt, had been left to care for Peter alone after her husband, Ben Parker, passed away.
"Peter? Are you still there?" Aunt May's voice carried a hint of worry. "I know college life is busy, but today's an important day. You have to come home."
"…Okay," Batman replied after a long pause, managing just the one word.
Hearing that Peter, whom she regarded as her own son, had agreed, Aunt May sounded overjoyed. She rambled on excitedly, and all Batman could do was respond with mechanical "Okay"s and "No problem"s.
He could feel the warmth and care in Aunt May's voice through the phone. In Gotham, only Alfred, his butler, had ever shown him such concern—but Alfred was never this talkative.
Aunt May's affection was almost overwhelming, but eventually, she hung up.
"Peter, want to try some pizza I just baked?" Ursula's voice came again as she poked her head out of her apartment, having heard him finish the call.
"Thanks," Batman declined. He wasn't used to this kind of unprompted kindness.
But Ursula seemed to take his refusal as agreement. She swung her door wide open, holding a tray of pizza and looking at him expectantly.
"…"
Three hours later, at ten in the morning.
"Check the surveillance! Find out who broke into my lab last night and triggered the alarm!"
"Tell the finance department to pay Silver Sable's security team extra! Make sure they don't leak any confidential data."
In Oscorp Tower, Norman Osborn stormed through a series of furious orders as he entered his office on the sixtieth floor.
The office was a mess—drawers yanked open, files scattered everywhere. Norman's rage boiled over, but before he could fully vent, an employee burst in.
"Mr. Osborn, the military has arrived downstairs."
Taking a deep breath, Norman didn't even glance at the employee. Suppressing his anger, he hurried to the elevator to greet the visitors.
He was immensely relieved that last night's intruder hadn't damaged any experimental equipment. If they had, today's military visit would have been a disaster.
Without military funding, and with Dr. Otto Octavius's nuclear fusion research still stalled, Norman faced the very real risk of being ousted by the board.
"Fortunately, I secured Kingpin's investment early," Norman muttered, steadying his emotions. "That keeps my position as a shareholder secure for now…"
Behind him, Batman, dressed in clothes he'd taken from an Oscorp researcher, scanned the chaotic office and followed quietly.
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