“So, are you planning to stay here, or are you leaving with me?”
Wayne paid no attention to the blazing fire engulfing the building behind him.
He knew exactly how powerful the incendiary grenade he had thrown was.
As long as the illicit drug factory below was truly empty, just as that man had claimed, then this fire was destined to claim no lives.
The only thing it would destroy was the contraband stored beneath.
“To be honest, I don’t really know where we’re supposed to go next.”
Spider-Man spoke calmly to Wayne.
“We’ll find a suitable place and sort out our identities.”
As he spoke, Wayne had already begun moving.
“Okay. You’re the boss now, so I’ll follow your lead.”
Spider-Man had no desire to waste any more brainpower on that topic.
Today’s workload had already exceeded his limit.
“Wait… are you saying we should get fake IDs?”
Only after leaving with the Bat did Spider-Man finally realize what Wayne meant.
What did “sort out our identities” mean?
Wasn’t that just forging identification?
“That’s a crime, man.”
Spider-Man suddenly leaped in front of Batman, his face completely serious.
Wayne narrowed his eyes at Spider-Man.
“Haven’t we always been criminals?”
“What? Of course not! Now that we have these powers, shouldn’t we take responsibility for them? Stopping people like those criminals from continuing their crimes—isn’t that our mission?”
Spider-Man protested passionately.
He completely disagreed with what Batman was implying.
He knew that if he had understood what ‘With great power comes great responsibility’ truly meant after gaining his powers, he never would have lost Uncle Ben.
“Are you a police officer?”
Wayne asked coldly.
Spider-Man shook his head.
“No.”
“Are you a law enforcement officer?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Wayne had no interest in continuing the discussion.
He disappeared from Spider-Man’s sight once again.
Spider-Man wanted to stop Wayne from leaving, but right now, he needed time to think about everything Wayne had said.
Batman’s words had shaken him far more than he expected.
He needed some peace and quiet.
For now… it was probably best not to stay around that Bat.
At least until he had sorted out his thoughts and come up with arguments that could refute everything Batman had said.
Firing another strand of webbing,
Spider-Man swung away, searching for somewhere he could clear his head.
What he didn’t see was that the moment he left,
Wayne emerged from the building’s exterior fire escape below.
Silently, he watched Spider-Man’s departing figure.
“What you just said dealt that chatterbox quite a blow.”
Thomas’s voice echoed inside Wayne’s mind.
“Aren’t people like us criminals?”
Wayne saw nothing wrong with what he’d said.
“Besides, if words like that are enough to shake a Spider-Man who’s already matured, then he doesn’t deserve to be called Spider-Man.”
There wasn’t a trace of sympathy in Wayne’s tone.
“By the way, what exactly is a Spider-Man? You seem oddly familiar with this world… but only to a point.”
Thomas had wanted to ask Wayne that for some time.
Wayne was clearly dressed as Batman, yet somehow possessed knowledge of a world he’d supposedly never seen before.
“You can think of this as an alternate superhero universe.”
Wayne leaped off the fire escape.
Just before he hit the ground, the cape behind him spread open, slowing his descent.
To Thomas, however, his own world had never felt like some so-called superhero universe.
It was a paradise for superpowered lunatics.
The Amazons and Atlanteans went to war, flooding half of Europe.
A biomechanical android constantly tried to recruit him into some so-called resistance.
None of it had ever made Thomas feel there was anyone worthy of being called a hero.
Not even himself.
Just as Wayne had said— they were all criminals.
Thomas himself was even a murderer.
“Your way of doing things would probably align perfectly with someone in this universe.”
Thomas hadn’t said it, but Wayne did.
“Really?”
“It’s just that… he’s even more extreme.”
Wayne walked toward a nearby vehicle.
Fortunately, inside he found a set of casual clothes that would let him take off his armored suit.
As an apology for taking someone else’s clothing,
Wayne left behind a stack of U.S. dollars.
Removing his mask,
Wayne finally got a clear look at his face in the car’s rearview mirror.
Even from the mouth of a madman, it had been described as flawless.
A perfectly sculpted face with sharp, chiseled features.
By any woman’s standards, the current Wayne could unquestionably be called handsome—almost irresistibly so.
Especially those melancholy blue eyes.
Anyone who looked into them would find it difficult to look away.
“Nice face.”
Wayne casually complimented his own appearance before changing clothes.
The only drawback was that the original owner of these clothes had probably eaten far too many hamburgers.
Even on Wayne’s body—built like a marble statue— they were still far too loose.
Still, they were perfectly adequate as a temporary solution.
Inside the vehicle, Wayne even found a travel backpack, allowing him to replace the crude cloth bundle that practically screamed robber.
Putting on a baseball cap, pulling up the hood of the hoodie, and slinging the backpack stuffed with cash over his shoulder,
Wayne left.
A man wearing ill-fitting clothes walking down the street attracted no attention whatsoever.
New York had more homeless people than anyone could count.
He raised a hand to hail one of the taxis still operating at this late hour.
A yellow cab quickly pulled over in front of him.
“New York University.”
The moment Wayne got into the taxi, he spoke before the driver even had a chance.
“No problem.”
The driver didn’t waste any words and immediately pulled away.
“But just so we’re clear—if you don’t have the money to pay, I’m going to beat the hell out of you.”
As he drove, the driver glanced at Wayne through the mirror.
The oversized, ill-fitting clothes, while not dirty or foul-smelling, were enough for the driver to immediately classify him as just another homeless man.
Meanwhile,
Wayne simply picked up the newspaper lying in the back seat and began using it to gain a comprehensive understanding of this world.
To him, only by understanding how this world functioned could he create an identity that truly fit within it.
“Okay… looks like you’re the silent type.”
Seeing that Wayne had no intention of chatting, the taxi driver swallowed the rest of his conversation.
Part of him even hoped Wayne really wouldn’t be able to pay the fare.
At least then, he’d have an excuse to beat up this smug-looking guy.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
When they finally arrived at New York University, the driver turned around to ask Wayne for the fare— only to find that the back seat was empty.
The only things left behind were a one-hundred-dollar bill and a faint breeze.
“Oh, my God…”
The driver stared blankly at the scene.
(End of Chapter)