Even though Spider-Man wore a mask, people could always somehow sense the expression beneath it.
For example, what Wayne sensed on Spider-Man’s face right now was amusement.
Perhaps it was because of those oversized eyes on the mask, which made the spider’s emotions so easy to read.
Compared to Spider-Man’s expressive mask, Wayne’s Batman cowl conveyed only fear—and the anger of the man beneath it.
Even if the person behind the mask wore the faintest smile, anyone facing Wayne would only find it deeply unsettling.
Very few people had ever seen Batman smile.
What they usually saw was nothing more than Batman’s disapproving gaze.
Nothing else.
Wayne said nothing.
Calmly, he took his Batarang back from Spider-Man’s hand.
“Hey, aren’t you even going to say thanks?” Wayne’s composed reaction clearly caught Spider-Man off guard.
Even when he helped an old lady cross the street, he’d at least get a “thank you.”
Now he’d returned Batman’s Batarang, and he got… nothing?
The moment he said that, Wayne stopped walking, turned around, and looked at Spider-Man.
“What material is your web made of? With this level of toughness and tensile strength, I assume it dissolves on its own after a short time.”
A bracelet-like device suddenly appeared in Wayne’s hand.
Even Wayne himself was somewhat surprised.
The ability to quietly take something from another person without them noticing was incredibly difficult to guard against.
With a skill like that, anyone in Gotham could probably become a legendary master thief.
“What?”
Spider-Man froze.
He had probably never imagined that someone could silently steal his web-shooter.
“How did you do that?”
Recovering from his shock, Spider-Man asked excitedly.
He had never seen anything like this happen before.
Besides, his web-shooter had been hidden beneath his suit.
How had it been taken?
“You lost focus.”
Wayne tossed the web-shooter back to the Spider-Man who was clearly sporting a bit of a beer belly.
“…”
Spider-Man genuinely didn’t know what to say.
No matter how much time had taken its toll and even though he hadn’t kept up with his training, one thing Spider-Man was certain of was that he had never let his guard down.
Wayne paid no attention to Spider-Man’s frustration.
He simply turned and continued toward his original destination.
He needed a few things.
“Hey, why can’t you just have a normal conversation with someone?”
Seeing Wayne about to leave, Spider-Man hurried after him.
“The Spider-Man of this world just died, and now a beer-bellied Spider-Man like you has already appeared.”
Without even turning his head, Wayne continued walking.
“I can tell you’ve gotten yourself involved in something extremely troublesome.”
“I have no intention of getting involved.”
Wayne’s calm words left Spider-Man utterly helpless.
He had never met someone whose voice remained so completely devoid of emotional fluctuation.
“But aren’t you already involved?”
Spider-Man continued following Wayne, showing absolutely no intention of leaving.
Wayne said nothing.
He merely stood atop the rooftop, carefully observing everything happening around him.
He had been moments away from carrying out his plan when an unexpected visitor interrupted him.
And now that same guy had been following him ever since.
“Hey, I knew it—you must be a die-hard Batman fan. So what? Looking for your next criminal?”
True to form, Spider-Man never stopped talking, constantly chattering beside Wayne.
His mouth simply never stopped moving.
“I hate this guy.”
Thomas, inside Wayne’s mind, could naturally hear everything Spider-Man was saying.
Even he couldn’t stand Spider-Man’s endless chatter.
In his world, no one possessed a mouth quite like Spider-Man’s.
The man could keep talking forever.
Without even needing a drink of water.
Wayne didn’t respond, but he agreed with Thomas.
Spider-Man was great in every way—
Except for his mouth.
“When you keep ignoring me, it really feels like I’m performing a one-man show. How about giving me some kind of response?”
Spider-Man suddenly swung over on a web and landed directly in front of Wayne.
Wayne reached out, shoved Spider-Man aside, and continued on his way.
The biggest difference between bats and spiders…
Was that bats needed money.
Without money, a bat might not even be able to afford a Batarang.
“You’ve really hurt my feelings, buddy. Besides, I think you’d be better off being a Spider-Man fan instead. Don’t you think?”
Spider-Man had never known the meaning of giving up.
He had complete confidence in himself.
The universally beloved Spider-Man couldn’t possibly lose to that gloomy bat.
“You mean a middle-aged Spider-Man with a beer belly whose spider suit doesn’t even have shoes?”
Wayne looked him up and down.
Spider-Man lowered his head and looked at his exposed calves and the toes currently digging awkwardly into the ground.
“Those are just minor issues.”
When he looked up again…
Wayne was already gone.
The only thing left was a figure swinging toward another building with a grappling gun.
“In some ways, we’re actually pretty similar.”
Spider-Man smiled.
Wayne had already found his target.
Naturally, he paid no attention to Spider-Man talking to himself.
What he needed to do now…
Was make some money.
And, while he was at it, get himself an identity.
Even if he didn’t know how long he would remain in this world, having a legitimate identity would certainly be for the best.
It would save Wayne from a lot of unwanted attention from the P.D.N.Y.
As for money…
The reason was simple.
Some things always required money.
Like equipment.
Perhaps because Spider-Man’s death had been confirmed, every kind of criminal, big or small, had begun crawling out of the shadows.
New York had once again become the chaotic city it had been before Spider-Man ever appeared.
A city in turmoil.
Dark alleys everywhere.
This version of New York was finally familiar to the Thomas inside Wayne’s mind.
This…
Was the kind of city Gotham had always been.
To those people…
Order meant nothing.
Except…
The order established by the Bat.
Just like the previous illegal drug deal, Wayne’s target was once again the dealer who was openly selling narcotics to the people around him.
Guys like these usually carried enough cash to fund at least part of Wayne’s activities.
Besides, Wayne wasn’t planning to stop with the street dealers.
He also intended to pay their headquarters a proper visit.
“Here you go.”
Holding a small bag of white powder, the black dealer grinned as he looked at the man before him, whose withdrawal symptoms were obvious.
“Thanks.”
The man handed over his cash and immediately reached out for the bag.
Just as his fingers were about to touch it, the dealer casually raised his hand, keeping it out of reach.
“Hey, hey, hey.”
The dealer wagged a finger.
“Sometimes money alone isn’t enough to buy the goods.”
“You’ve got to put in a little effort.”
“S-Sir… what… what do you want me to do?”
The man no longer knew what he was saying.
He only wanted the powder.
Satisfied with the answer, the dealer smiled and held the bag out in front of him.
“Bring me your wife, and I’ll give you something that’ll blow your mind.”
“N-No problem.”
The man didn’t care what the dealer was saying.
All he wanted was the drugs.
He reached for the bag.
The dealer nodded with satisfaction.
“I’ve recorded what you just said. Don’t forget.”
“Forget what?”
A cold voice suddenly spoke from behind the dealer.
“What?”
Before he could react, a powerful knee strike slammed into his abdomen and smashed him against the wall.
His stomach churned violently.
It felt as though he were about to vomit everything he’d eaten that day.
Every muscle in his abdomen twisted together in agony.
Wayne looked indifferently at the man crawling across the ground, desperately searching for the bag of powder the dealer had dropped.
Wayne never pitied people like him.
Especially those willing to trade their own family for a moment of pleasure.
Wayne walked toward the man.
The addict had finally found the bag.
Just as he was about to indulge in his bliss, a foot stomped down on the back of his head, smashing his face into the ground.
Blood slowly trickled from his forehead.
“Son of a bitch!!”
While Wayne was dealing with the addict, the dealer—who had been immobilized by the pain—finally recovered.
Without hesitation, he pulled out a gun and fired at Wayne.
He missed.
A strand of web suddenly wrapped around the hand holding the gun.
“What?”
The web around his wrist left the dealer stunned.
Wasn’t Spider-Man supposed to be dead?
Wayne couldn’t care less whether Spider-Man showed up.
He chopped through the web with one hand and drove a punch straight into the dealer’s stomach.
The dealer’s abdomen had already suffered one devastating blow.
This punch was more than it could bear.
He spat out blood, his eyes filled with terror.
“Whoa…”
Spider-Man landed beside them just then.
Seeing the dealer’s miserable condition and the unconscious man lying nearby, Spider-Man looked visibly uncomfortable.
“This… doesn’t really fit Batman’s image.”
“Now I ask.”
“You answer.”
Ignoring Spider-Man completely, Wayne grabbed the dealer by the collar with both hands and spoke each word slowly.
Every line carved into the pitch-black Batman mask seemed to whisper fear straight from the deepest recesses of the human heart.
Spider-Man let his hands fall helplessly.
The dealer had no desire to continue suffering like this.
He nodded frantically.
After all, the masked freak before him clearly didn’t care how badly he hurt people.
“Where do you pick up the merchandise?”
“I only know it comes from Hell’s Kitchen. They notify us of the meeting place before every delivery.”
“When do you collect it?”
“Every two days. I’m supposed to pick up the next shipment tomorrow.”
“Where do you keep your cash?”
“In the safe at my apartment. The password is ******. The address is Apartment 303, third floor, two subway stops away.”
Wayne released him.
The dealer slowly slid down the wall.
Watching Wayne turn away, the dealer seemed to think he’d escaped.
Just as he was about to sigh in relief…
Without any warning, Wayne spun around and drove a vicious elbow into his face.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
In the light, several teeth could even be seen flying through the air.
Afterward, Wayne calmly took all the cash from the dealer’s body and stuffed it into his utility pouch.
He also pocketed a car key.
“Are you really a die-hard Batman fan? Because honestly, you seem more like the Punisher.”
Watching everything Wayne had done, Spider-Man couldn’t see Batman’s style in him at all.
Spider-Man had already checked on the man lying on the ground.
At the very least, he had a severe concussion.
In a worse-case scenario, he could end up in a permanent vegetative state.
As for the dealer Wayne had smashed with that elbow…
Spider-Man was certain he was already a vegetable.
If he didn’t receive treatment immediately, Spider-Man wasn’t even sure he’d survive.
The back of his head was already bleeding.
However, Thomas, inside Wayne’s mind, had a different complaint.
It wasn’t that Wayne had gone too far.
On the contrary…
Thomas thought Wayne hadn’t gone far enough.
Scum like this…
If Thomas had been the one handling them, he could guarantee that neither of them would have survived.
Both of them would have gone straight to hell…
To report to Satan.
“I think you still went too easy on them.”
Thomas spoke in a tone of disappointment, as though Wayne had failed to live up to expectations.
“Forgive me.”
“I’m still not capable of taking another person’s life.”
“I’m still not capable of doing it without any psychological burden.”
Wayne replied calmly.
“This is already the greatest harm I can bring myself to inflict.”
Thomas had no answer.
He knew perfectly well that expecting Wayne to become someone like him overnight was asking too much.
Without another word, Thomas retreated back into his prison.
Meanwhile, Wayne walked toward a nearby parking lot with the car key.
He pressed the unlock button.
A Ford pickup truck flashed its lights.
“Pretty nice truck.”
“I like it.”
Spider-Man’s irritating voice echoed beside him once again.
(End of Chapter)