"Are you saying there are vampires in the city? Like the ones in movies, lurking at night and drinking people's blood?"
George Stacy stared at the criminal locked in the interrogation room.
Following the gang members from the day before yesterday and the Squid Man yesterday, this morning another group of tightly bound criminals was found dumped at the police station's doorstep.
Each of them bore injuries—minor ones had broken hands, feet, or ribs, while the severe cases had shattered spines or twisted necks.
Whoever did this seemed to have an expert understanding of human anatomy, incapacitating these gang members with criminal records just enough to leave them barely breathing.
"Yes, vampires! I saw them with my own eyes!"
In the interrogation room, Paul, his hands cuffed, shouted desperately. But no matter how he explained, no one in the police station believed that "vampires" actually existed.
"He's probably been beaten senseless by that unknown vigilante. Get a doctor to give him a sedative."
George Stacy shook his head, dismissing the small-time thug named Paul. He called over his assistant, Aug, and asked, "Have we identified all the victims killed by Squid Man? The trial's tomorrow. If the evidence is solid, he's facing the death penalty."
"Also, coordinate with other precincts to increase nighttime patrols."
Aug nodded and hurried back to his desk, only to find that the victim list he'd spent a day and a night compiling was gone.
Thanks to clues provided by the mysterious figure who caught Squid Man, the police had saved a lot of effort in their investigation. If that list was lost, they'd have to start over.
"Who took my list?" Aug shouted to his colleagues.
Everyone shook their heads.
"Damn it, I know I left it on my desk!"
Confused, Aug bent down to search around, but found nothing. Unwilling to give up, he looked back at his desk—and there was the list, lying neatly in place.
Instinctively, he glanced toward the station's entrance, just in time to see a figure in black clothing and a hat walking quickly out the door.
"Hey! Stop!"
Aug shouted and rushed after the figure, with other officers, confused but armed, following close behind.
"Aug! What's gotten into you?" Chief George Stacy ran out after him, looking at Aug, who had lost sight of his target.
"Some guy just stole my investigation report… well, not exactly stole. He put it back on the desk." Aug's face was full of confusion. "It's got all the victim info. What the hell does he want with it?"
"Whatever he's after, arrange extra protection for those victims over the next few days," George Stacy said, patting Aug's shoulder.
Three blocks away, Batman tossed the black clothes and hat into a dumpster, blending into the Manhattan streets in a plaid shirt and casual pants.
"Hired by gangs, Squid Man was paid for eight contract killings, seven of which were members of various New York gangs…"
Batman recalled the victim list he'd seen at the police station, momentarily at a loss for words.
The only non-gang member on the list was Batman himself.
At a street corner newsstand, Batman bought a copy of the Daily Bugle. He didn't rush to read it, instead heading back to an abandoned shipyard.
There, he trained his body using the shipyard's discarded industrial equipment and various weights, all while planning his next move.
His original goal was to use the 7.6 million dollars seized from Squid Man's hideout to arm himself and continue targeting gangs—especially Kingpin—to amass more funds.
But with his suit issue resolved through the Spider-Slayer, Batman decided he could put that plan on hold for now.
That left him with taking down gangs, saving money, and looking for opportunities to double his funds in the market.
Even while operating as Batman in Gotham, he had always played the role of billionaire Bruce Wayne, so he was no stranger to financial maneuvering.
"When I have enough money, I can start a company and invest in Dr. Octavius's nuclear fusion energy project."
With a dull thud, Batman dropped a stack of weights totaling twenty-five tons—Peter Parker's maximum strength limit—onto the ground.
His training wasn't just about mastering this body; it was also to prepare for the unlikely event that Peter Parker's genetically altered physique might fail, leaving him powerless.
Even if that small possibility came to pass, Batman wanted to ensure he still had strength he could rely on. Combined with a specially designed suit, he could still operate at peak performance.
—But such a suit would cost tens of millions, something he couldn't afford without building his own business empire first.
"The Osborn Corporation has announced a major breakthrough in Dr. Octavius's research project on 'clean nuclear fusion energy,' and is now officially open to external investment."
After finishing his workout, Batman picked up the Daily Bugle, and the front-page headline made him instinctively rub his chin.
"This is fake news. Just yesterday, Norman Osborn halted all experiments, including Dr. Octavius's, to focus on developing a super-soldier serum…"
"Is this some kind of signal to mislead the public? Using the allure of nuclear fusion energy to attract investment, then funneling the funds elsewhere?"
"No one's a fool. Norman Osborn is just grasping at straws."
Batman stacked the newspaper neatly with the others he'd bought, then headed to Peter Parker's rented apartment to make an appearance before going straight to Dr. Octavius's lab.
Though the Daily Bugle headline was a smokescreen, Dr. Octavius's nuclear fusion project was a real part of Batman's plans.
"I hope nothing's gone wrong at Dr. Octavius's lab."
Dr. Octavius's laboratory was in Brooklyn, about an hour's walk from Peter Parker's apartment.
"If I wore the Spider-Man suit to disguise myself, I could swing there on webs and get there in no time…"
Batman quickly banished the thought from his mind and hailed a taxi on the street.
"Peter."
In Dr. Octavius's lab, the middle-aged man, who had been full of vigor just days ago, now looked haggard. He greeted Batman weakly.
The lab's equipment was powered down, and Dr. Octavius slumped in a chair, staring blankly at his surroundings.
He had already identified the issue with his nuclear fusion experiment. Given enough time to troubleshoot, he could complete the research.
But yesterday, the Osborn Corporation, which had been funding his work, abruptly cut off his research budget, bringing all his efforts to a screeching halt.
"Doctor, what's your plan?" Batman asked, sitting down beside him.
"I was going to seek new sponsors, but look at this." Dr. Octavius handed Batman a copy of today's Daily Bugle. "The Osborn Corporation has already cut off my ability to seek private funding."
The Daily Bugle featured the fake news about the fusion breakthrough. Batman took the paper and pretended to read it carefully for a moment.
His attention wasn't on the paper, though—it was on a new device in the lab that hadn't been there during his last visit: four metallic tentacles, eerily similar to those on the back of Squid Man, whom Batman had personally delivered to the police.
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my pa-treon:
pat reon .c-om/windkaze