“Sorry. I hate it.”
Wayne straightened up.
At this point, aside from the women who had long since been drugged by those scumbags, there wasn’t a single person left who could still stand.
Those women, writhing about like a pack of deranged lunatics, weren’t likely to say anything coherent.
Their minds had probably already been destroyed beyond repair.
Wayne pressed a miniature breaching charge onto the intact safe and blew the door open.
All he could do was admire Batman—there really was everything imaginable hidden inside that utility belt.
Inside the safe were neatly bundled stacks of U.S. dollars, along with a large quantity of uncut diamonds and gold.
The Batman of the past would probably have remained completely indifferent in the face of such wealth.
Unfortunately, the one standing here now was Wayne.
For a fleeting instant, excitement surged through him, but his reason quickly forced it back down.
He ripped down the nearby curtains and used them to bundle up everything inside the safe.
As for the loose cash scattered across the room, he didn’t touch a single dollar.
Wayne couldn’t be certain whether that money had anything on it that shouldn’t be there.
His grappling gun fired.
Carrying the curtain stuffed with cash and precious metals over his shoulder, Wayne disappeared from the top floor.
But that didn’t mean he was simply going to let their stash go.
“So you sold me out just to get your startup capital?”
Spider-Man stared at Wayne, whose back was burdened with a huge bundle.
The large white lenses of his mask widened in disbelief.
He simply couldn’t believe Wayne had abandoned him over the things he was carrying.
“Man, that really hurts.”
Spider-Man clutched his chest, his oversized white eyes narrowing again as though trying to express how wronged he felt.
“Watch these. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Wayne handed the oversized bundle to Spider-Man before returning to the building once more.
Spider-Man couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
He seriously wondered if he’d misheard him.
If he hadn’t, then Batman had just asked him to watch his stuff.
Just moments ago, Batman had thrown him under the bus.
And now that bat actually expected him to do him a favor.
Spider-Man genuinely wanted to shout, “Son of a bitch!” right at Batman.
But in the end, his good upbringing got the better of him.
He swallowed the curse and obediently sat atop the rooftop water tank, guarding the bundle Batman had left behind.
Having accomplished the task he needed most, Wayne chose a much more direct approach this time.
Bang!
A gang member holding a firearm rolled across the floor in agony.
Before anyone could even step forward to ask what had happened, Wayne was already standing before them.
When it came to these gangsters, Wayne’s methods were simple and direct.
Batman’s iron fist slammed straight into their faces.
With a force of up to a thousand pounds behind each blow, a single punch was enough to knock them unconscious.
Such a commotion naturally attracted the attention of the other gang members.
They had no idea what had happened at the back entrance.
But this place was tied directly to their lives and livelihoods—they had to go check.
No one knew whether whatever had caused the disturbance might cost them their lives if the boss found out.
Yet when they finally reached the back door, all they found were gang members lying unconscious across the floor.
There wasn’t a trace of the attacker.
“Brother, what happened?”
One of them picked up a gangster who looked like he might still be able to wake up.
He shook him frantically, trying to get any information at all about the attacker.
Hell’s Kitchen had been far too lively today.
Spider-Man, who had just been confirmed dead, had suddenly appeared on their turf.
Now another unknown lunatic had appeared out of nowhere and stormed straight into their headquarters.
While one man tried to question the unconscious thug, the others nervously aimed their guns in every direction, searching for any sign of the intruder.
Wayne silently watched all of their defensive measures from above.
Lightly pushing off the wall, he abandoned the idea of staying on the ceiling any longer.
He dropped down with both knees together, crashing into the back of one gunman.
The instant his knees struck, the man coughed up blood and collapsed face-first onto the floor.
The two men beside him hadn’t even had time to react before each took a knife-hand strike and fell unconscious.
As Wayne spun around, he hooked the neck of the gangster who had been trying to find out his whereabouts with the crook of his leg.
“Now I ask. You answer.”
“Go to hell, you freak!”
To his credit, the man had some courage.
Even facing Wayne, he still managed to spit those words out.
“What happened at the back entrance? Did anyone break in?”
Suddenly, the man’s radio crackled to life.
Even if he desperately wanted to tell them that things had gone terribly wrong, he couldn’t.
Wayne’s leg was clamped tightly around his neck.
Even breathing had become difficult.
Taking the radio from him, Wayne made a few adjustments on the controls built into his gauntlet before speaking into it.
“Everything’s secure. Just a couple of guys fooling around.”
“Damn it! They’re always making extra work for everyone. Tell them to stay at their posts. If anything goes wrong, I’ll skin them alive!”
The man on the other end clearly outranked those who had come to investigate.
“Understood.”
Wayne switched off the radio and fixed his eyes on the thug, whose face had already turned bright red.
Loosening his hold slightly, the man greedily gulped down the air he had never appreciated before.
“Tell me. Why is no one checking the top floor?”
Wayne was genuinely curious.
He had caused a huge disturbance upstairs, yet not a single person had gone to investigate.
Perhaps it was the terror of standing on death’s doorstep.
This time, the thug no longer tried to act tough.
“The people upstairs are important clients. No matter what happens up there, we’re not allowed to disturb them.”
That answer surprised Wayne.
He had assumed they were merely middle or upper management enjoying themselves.
He hadn’t expected them to be the gangs’ customers.
“Where’s your drug production site?”
Wayne immediately moved on to his next question.
Time was running short.
The sniper he’d knocked unconscious earlier wouldn’t stay that way forever.
Judging by the timing, the next routine check-in would be coming soon.
The moment they realized the sniper had stopped responding, they would know something was wrong.
“Downstairs. Go through that stairwell and you’ll find it.”
The thug struggled to lift a hand and pointed toward a nearby staircase.
“Anyone down there?”
“No.”
After confirming that the basement was empty, Wayne drove a punch into the man’s head.
His face blossomed into a bloody mess once again.
He was young, after all.
In a place like this, he could apparently fall asleep whenever he wanted.
Wayne released the hold of his leg, letting the thug collapse to the ground.
Then he pulled two miniature incendiary grenades from his utility belt.
He armed them.
After that, Wayne retraced the exact route he had used to enter.
The Bat landed lightly on the rooftop.
Spider-Man was still squatting there in boredom, while the bundle remained safely where Wayne had left it.
“Oh, our great Bat has finally returned.”
With his heightened hearing, Spider-Man had naturally caught the sound of Wayne retracting his grappling line.
Just as Spider-Man was about to ask where Wayne had gone and what he’d been doing, he saw roaring flames erupt beneath a distant building.
“Now that is doing something big.”
Spider-Man couldn’t help but sigh in amazement.
(End of Chapter)