Venom cowered within Batman's body, trembling, not daring to utter a single word.
Compared to the strength and power of the Peter Parker physique that Batman inhabited, it was Batman's near-indestructible willpower that truly terrified Venom.
It counted itself lucky that when it tried to probe the weakness buried deep in Batman's heart, it was blocked by an impenetrable barrier—unlike with Negative Man, where it had recklessly touched things far beyond its control.
Back at City Hall subway station, the sky was just beginning to lighten.
Batman remained silent, remotely accessing Parker Industries' computers to urgently order another batch of materials before shedding his suit to begin training.
The station housed specialized, ultra-heavy equipment Batman had custom-built for himself, ranging from thirty to one hundred tons.
Under normal conditions, Batman could harness Peter Parker's body to exert a strength of thirty tons, pushing to around fifty tons at his absolute limit.
As Batman relentlessly pushed the limits of this body, beads of sweat dripped heavily, pattering onto the floor.
"I…" Venom hesitated for a long moment before finally speaking.
It barely got out a single word before Batman's low, commanding voice cut it off: "No."
Venom immediately fell silent. It had wanted to say that by bonding with Batman's body, it could provide strength far surpassing thirty tons.
But Batman's refusal was absolute, unwavering—he didn't even entertain what Venom might have been about to say.
The events of the previous night at the FEAST shelter had made it clear to Batman that Venom could peer into his memories.
Even if it didn't dare touch his deepest memories, Venom knew everything—every detail about Batman's journey from Gotham to this world and nearly every action he'd taken since arriving.
Yet, when it came to Venom itself, Batman knew almost nothing beyond the weaknesses he'd gleaned from their battles.
This imbalance plunged Batman into profound anxiety, prompting him to halt all his activities and cease contact with everyone.
Until the urgently ordered materials arrived, Batman had no intention of communicating with Venom in any way.
Fortunately, the materials he'd ordered were coming from as far as Washington and as close as a local New York company, with the earliest possible delivery set for the following morning.
"Professor, pause the transformation control experiments for one day," Batman instructed through an encrypted channel to Professor Connors, ensuring that in his absence, Dr. Banner alone wouldn't be left to handle Connors' potential transformation into the Lizard.
From the data Batman had gathered, in a straight fight, there was a ninety percent chance the Hulk would overpower the Lizard.
But that estimate assumed an all-out, no-holds-barred brawl.
Batman would do everything to prevent such a scenario.
Not only would a clash between the two draw the attention of guards at the nearby Rikers Island prison, but it would also risk exposing Batman's newly established secret research base.
And then there was Dr. Otto Octavius, currently on the island, stripped of his mechanical arms and reduced to a slightly paunchy, ordinary middle-aged man.
If the Lizard and the Hulk were to fight, Otto would undoubtedly be the first casualty.
"What happened? Is it related to us?" Professor Connors' reply came quickly.
"I'm dealing with a personal issue and can't make it over for now," Batman responded.
Soon after, Connors sent a reassuring message, informing Batman that they'd take advantage of the morning's downtime to analyze the half of the Lizard's tail that the Hulk had torn off the previous day.
"It's time I started my own verification," Batman murmured to himself.
He needed to confirm whether this world's fundamental physical laws and mathematical structures aligned with those of his original world.
Precision experiments requiring specialized equipment—like measuring the speed of light, the photoelectric effect, or gravitational calculations—were currently impossible.
But probabilities, prime numbers, and pi? Those, Batman could verify using the computers and the paper and pens available at City Hall station.
"Oh, math? What's Batman up to?" Venom wondered.
It could see everything Batman saw, and now it couldn't help but speculate.
But Venom didn't dare speak. The memory of being coldly shut down after uttering a single word still lingered, and it feared that if it spoke again, Batman might take drastic measures against it.
Verifying mathematical conjectures consumed nearly Batman's entire day.
He didn't leave the City Hall subway station, didn't eat, drank only a little water, and didn't sleep.
His focus remained razor-sharp, half his mind suppressing Venom, the other half tackling the mathematical validations.
As night fell and the math was complete, Batman didn't pause. He skipped his usual crime-fighting patrol and moved straight to the next phase of analysis.
This time, he revisited the visions that had flashed before him when he first arrived in this world, standing atop a Gotham gargoyle in his suit, gazing at the rain-soaked cityscape.
Those images were etched deeply in his mind, but real-world demands had delayed his chance to analyze them. Now, he seized the opportunity.
The visions replayed in his head, the figures within them emerging vividly—until his memory settled on one scene: Ben Parker lying on the ground, clutching Peter Parker's hand.
"With great power comes great responsibility?" Batman distilled Ben Parker's dying words into a single phrase, then sat motionless, like a statue.
Minutes passed—ten, then more—before Batman reined in his thoughts and shifted focus to his next steps.
He needed to refine his plans for infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D., a critical move in his broader strategy.
"Plans, always plans! Is there anything in his head besides plans?" Venom grumbled internally, exasperated.
The issue of Stark weapons flooding the market had been half-resolved. For now, Batman had no new leads on their circulation.
But the weapons were leaking from S.H.I.E.L.D., and unless that was addressed, the problem would resurface.
Two sources needed tackling: S.H.I.E.L.D. and Stark Industries. Batman would use different methods to stop the flow of arms into civilian hands.
The weapons issue also tied to Norman Osborn's abduction, General Ross, and the forces backing him.
The long night passed in a blur, and by morning, the urgently ordered materials had arrived.
Venom's heart—or whatever passed for it—sank. It knew exactly what those materials were for.
They were for a containment unit, custom-built for Venom—or, more accurately, a tailored prison.