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Chapter 27: Reverse Operation
George Stacy had barely left when Norman Osborn arrived at the police station.
As chairman of Oscorp, Norman didn't need much effort to reach the holding cell containing Spider-Slayer—Spencer Smythe. He coughed twice through the iron bars.
"Norman!"
Hearing the sound, the handcuffed Spencer scrambled to the cell door on hands and knees, gripping the bars, nearly trying to squeeze his head through the gaps.
"It's not a spider—it's a bat!"
"Bat?" Norman frowned. "Describe that day in detail."
Spencer didn't delay. He recounted discovering "Spider-Man" heading toward Central Park, pursuing him only to realize the one fighting him wasn't Spider-Man at all, but someone who used a bat as his symbol. When finished, he asked anxiously:
"Norman, I still have a chance, right? Get me out of here—I can still create value!"
"My kid needs a father. I can't stay locked up forever!"
Though Spencer's current charge was "destruction of protected flora and fauna," the law still meant three to five years in prison.
"You said his fighting style was more ruthless, more violent?" Norman asked thoughtfully.
Spencer nodded repeatedly. He couldn't forget having countless techniques at his disposal, yet being defeated by lime powder, electric shocks, explosions, and other dirty tricks.
"Norman, I guarantee I can capture him alive next time—just get me out!"
Whoosh!
Norman's hand shot through the bars like lightning, seizing Spencer's throat in an iron grip. His expression gradually twisted.
"Next time? No. You've already failed once. I can't keep wasting money on you."
Though Norman was over fifty, approaching old age, his single hand gripped like an eagle's talon, effortlessly lifting Spencer from inside the cell.
"As a core member of Oscorp, you know too many secrets. I need you to commit suicide before midnight tonight..."
"Otherwise your child, your family, your friends—they'll die one by one because of you."
Thud.
Norman released his grip, letting Spencer fall hard on his rear. The twisted expression vanished from his face the instant he turned away, replaced by the worried look of someone troubled by Oscorp's murder case.
"Father."
Harry had remained in the car rather than following Norman into the station.
Seeing Norman emerge looking distressed, Harry quickly got out, opened the passenger door for him, then returned to the driver's seat.
"Did you find out who the killer was? What did Spencer say?"
Norman shook his head dejectedly.
"No. He doesn't even know what the killer looks like. He was convicted of deliberately destroying protected plants and animals because of some 'bat.' Won't be out for years."
Harry pressed the gas pedal. The car immediately merged into New York's congested traffic.
"I remember Spencer has a paralyzed son around my age?"
Norman's face remained troubled.
"That's right, Harry. Tomorrow, visit Spencer's home. Leave them enough money to live on—compensation from Oscorp."
Harry nodded, then honked impatiently at the traffic ahead.
"Strange. Why are so many cars from Brooklyn heading to Manhattan? Is today some kind of holiday?"
....
"Captain Stacy, I'm Captain Fike from Brooklyn precinct, specially assigned to coordinate with you. All residents near Dr. Octavius's suspected location have been evacuated to surrounding areas. We're ready to move."
At a Brooklyn intersection, Captain George Stacy shook hands with Brooklyn's special operations Captain Fike.
According to information from the New York Power Authority and Brooklyn police, the abnormal electricity usage began immediately after Otto's disappearance yesterday. There had to be a connection.
The area experiencing power anomalies was right beneath this intersection—within about a kilometer radius.
"Thank you, Fike." George exchanged pleasantries briefly before issuing orders. "Teams one, two, and three—enter the sewers from three directions and search for any suspicious traces."
"Captain Fike, lead your team in from another direction."
Fike saluted and immediately began coordinating his officers with the Manhattan precinct personnel for simultaneous action.
Meanwhile, Batman bypassed the police and reached Otto's lab.
This space had once held over a dozen experimental devices of various sizes. Now it sat completely empty, only three-pronged claw prints the size of motorcycle helmets left on the floor and walls.
"Those four metal tentacles. Otto got the inspiration from Squid-Man—designed to assist his fusion experiment."
"He attached them to his back and moved all the equipment."
Batman sighed silently.
Peter was too poor. Even pulling out ten thousand dollars might arouse suspicion, so Batman hadn't told Otto he was working to solve his funding problem.
He'd planned to resolve the thirty million dollar issue within three days, even expediting a company registration to sponsor Otto.
Unfortunately, he was one step too late. Otto's desperation for clean fusion energy success exceeded Batman's expectations.
"I can't enter the sewers now. Without my suit, whether I confront police or search for Otto, I'll be completely exposed."
"Even wearing the suit, I haven't established cooperation with NYPD yet. They'll just shoot and arrest me rather than let me handle Otto."
Batman understood the current situation perfectly. He didn't linger in Otto's lab, instead returning to Manhattan.
He needed to continue searching for lawyers. With Oscorp simultaneously exploding with human experimentation and murder scandals, the company's stock price would inevitably plummet.
Previously it was to prevent Kingpin from successfully laundering money. Now it was to prevent Kingpin from withdrawing unscathed without losses.
Either way, Batman needed to quickly find a reliable lawyer to sanction Kingpin—unless he found Kingpin himself first.
If he located Kingpin and obtained criminal evidence first, Batman could send him straight to prison without the elaborate lawyer search.
Simultaneously, in a Manhattan mansion, Oscorp shareholder Valentin stood with trembling legs. The acrid smell of urine made those nearby hold their breath.
"You see, Oscorp will struggle for months, even years, because of your human experiments and underground massacre. Yet I'm still willing to pay premium prices for your shares."
"I believe no businessman is more generous than me. Sign this agreement and you become my friend. Otherwise..."
Valentin kept his head down, vision limited to gleaming leather shoes and crisp white dress pants.
He didn't dare look up. Sharp scissors pressed against his ear—the slightest pressure would pierce through.
"I voluntarily transfer my fifteen percent stake to you, respected Mr. Wilson Fisk," Valentin said carefully.
Standing before him, rather than selling shares during Oscorp's crisis, forcibly acquiring them instead—this was none other than Kingpin himself, Wilson Fisk.
***
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