"Hello? Manhattan Police Department?"
"Can you take me away? I robbed someone, I stole things—I'm a criminal! Come and arrest me!"
"And me! A few years ago, I scammed a rich guy. That's a crime, right? Arrest me too!"
"Please, please, let me go to jail!"
Chief George Stacy was swamped tonight, with emergency calls coming in one after another, leaving him no time to breathe.
"Ogg, draft up tomorrow's schedule. We need to get a psychiatrist in to evaluate Norman Osborn."
Standing in the bustling police station, Chief George said to his assistant, Ogg:
"Also... tomorrow, we'll handle Dr. Otto's release from prison and clear out a holding cell for him."
His assistant, Ogg, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. He knew tonight was bound to be a sleepless one, probably involving all-night overtime.
"Chief George, even if we clear one out, it won't help..."
Ogg pointed to the operators in the police station, who were still fielding calls nonstop.
"These guys are losing it, all rushing to turn themselves in. In one night, we've cracked more cold cases than in the last six months combined."
"And they're scattered all over— from Uptown Manhattan to Downtown—like they all decided to head to the station at the same time."
Chief George Stacy scratched his head in frustration.
"Sigh, I know. I even suspect these guys are Kingpin's goons, trying to flood the prison to bust him out."
"If that's the case, Kingpin would be a real idiot," Ogg said, shaking his head.
"Chief, we've got a lead!" At that moment, an operator stood up, covering the phone receiver, and called out to George Stacy. "The guy on the line just mentioned 'Batman'!"
"Is that right?!" George Stacy hurried over, taking three steps in two. "Ask him what exactly happened."
The operator quickly got back on the call with the person on the other end, then reported with a somewhat grim expression:
"He says he was surrounded by a bunch of Batmen, and he'd rather go to prison than keep suffering like this."
At the mention of "Batman," George Stacy's already furrowed brows knit even tighter.
"Get his location. Dispatch every available unit, including Major Crimes. Bring these surrendering suspects in first."
The operator nodded, and soon, all the police cars from the station roared to life with sirens blaring, heading out in every direction across Manhattan.
Chief George Stacy let out a sigh, returned to his office, and stared at the Batarang on his desk—the one they'd pulled from Norman Osborn's suit.
He'd initially thought Batman was just another vigilante in a tight suit, like Spider-Man, but now he'd scrapped that idea entirely.
Batman might not be a single person; it could be an organization, a group of people... or maybe not even people at all.
Otherwise, he couldn't explain why so many suspects all over Manhattan had chosen to surrender at the exact same time tonight.
Woo-wah, woo-wah—
Police sirens pierced the Manhattan night sky. Aside from the Hell's Kitchen incident two days ago, the city hadn't been this alive in ages.
Behind the windows of apartments lining the streets, heads poked out cautiously, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.
In Downtown Manhattan, where residents owned more guns on average than their parents did, people kept firearms tucked into their clothes or stashed under pillows.
In Washington Park, Downtown Manhattan, a police car sped toward the scene from a distance.
Bats were swarming there, startled by the headlights and sirens, scattering in a frenzy—as if a vampire had transformed into countless bats, just like in the movies.
Cornet lay in Washington Park, his eyes wide open, staring at the dark night sky with utter despair.
His backside felt wet, hot, and a bit slimy, and nearly every bone below his abdomen was shattered.
But Cornet was completely numb to it all. Only when the siren wailed did a spark of light return to his eyes.
He quickly propped himself up on his hands and crawled forward, ignoring the foul-smelling mess sliding down his pants, waving desperately at the police car as he went.
"Great, fantastic! I'm over here!"
"I just tried to assault a lady—I'm a rapist! Arrest me quick!"
"This park is haunted! There's a demon!"
Cornet would never forget what had just happened, not for the rest of his life.
Jobless, parentless, with no family or money, Cornet had targeted a waitress tonight, dragging her forcefully into Washington Park to try and have his way with her.
The waitress was far weaker than him and couldn't fight back.
Just as Cornet was about to succeed, he discovered to his horror that the waitress—who wasn't particularly pretty or young—suddenly vanished in a gust of foul wind.
In her place stood a figure so dark and cold it inspired pure despair. He didn't say a word, but simply reached out and silently crushed all of Cornet's bones, including those in his crotch and legs.
Cornet, who had easily overpowered the waitress, couldn't move the black figure an inch no matter how hard he tried—until he was beaten unconscious in agony, only to be painfully roused again.
This cycle repeated three times, and Cornet completely broke.
Similar scenes were unfolding all across Manhattan at that very moment, involving as few as one or two people, or as many as dozens of gang members.
Their bones were either shattered, or they were bound up like dumplings in black spider silk, scattered across the ground like twisted human sculptures.
Madmen, demons, ghosts, bats, vampires, werewolves, Jack the Ripper... their descriptions of the attacker varied wildly, but the "Bat" symbol was a constant thread. All of it was Batman's work tonight.
Atop the Empire State Building, more than four hundred meters high, fierce winds whipped Batman's cape wildly. The cheap cape, damaged by the Green Goblin, lent an air of solitude to his silhouette against the night.
He gazed down at the flashing police cars weaving through the various crime scenes. The Manhattan night sky was as lively as if it were boiling over.
After leaving Queens, Batman had used the Batmobile's superior mobility to navigate the subways, relying on the radio and Peter Parker's eerily sharp senses to monitor every crime scene he passed.
"I know you're a good kid..."
Aunt May's words seemed to echo in Batman's ears still. He spread his cape and leaped from the top of the Empire State Building, using his Batarang and cape to land safely, then drove the Batmobile straight toward Hell's Kitchen.
Kingpin was already in police custody, but his lingering forces still held sway over Hell's Kitchen. Walker and Mike's confessions about Kingpin's other two underlings, Shulman and Bullseye Lester, posed an ongoing threat.
Batman wouldn't allow them to become the next "Kingpin."
Meanwhile, in Hell's Kitchen.
Bullseye held a small tracking device, scrutinizing it closely. He'd swiped it from Black Cat's white fluffy collar when he'd brushed past her earlier.
"Black Cat, I think you need to explain what this is?"