"I have successfully obtained all the trade records for the Dark Wind Syndicate, Batman."
An hour later, in a hidden wine cellar within the Flower District—the very place where Ronin, Clint Barton, had once single-handedly fought over a hundred Dark Wind thugs with nothing but a blade—Ronin connected to an encrypted channel with Batman.
Batman's low voice was as steady as ever. "Report the process briefly."
"I killed almost every core member and thug in the Dark Wind Syndicate," Ronin said.
Batman was silent for half a second. "Why?"
"I had to," Ronin replied.
"The reason?"
"To save more people."
On the rooftop of the Flatiron Building, Batman looked at Black Widow, who was currently trapped in his webbing, and fell silent once more.
Batman did not immediately lash out at Hawkeye for killing.
The no-kill rule was the only line of defense he had to prevent himself from falling into darkness; it was the path of redemption for his tragic life. Batman had once said he had to be the "silent guardian, the watchful protector," and the cornerstone of that path was not killing.
But that did not mean Batman would force everyone in the world to accept his philosophy.
Batman only asked one question: "Clint, did you try non-lethal means for even a single second?"
"I had no other choice, Batman," Ronin, Clint Barton, said as he sat on the floor, leaning his back against the wine cellar wall.
This time, Batman did not fall silent. He directly countered Clint's response.
"In New York, I must always have that time. If I don't, it means my training was insufficient and my preparation was lacking.
"I'm sorry, Clint. It was my failure to provide a better plan for you to execute this mission. You shouldn't have had to do what I couldn't do myself."
Batman fundamentally believed that everyone deserved to be saved. However, not only had Hawkeye killed far too many people, but he had done so under the premise of a mission Batman had assigned him in Japan.
Batman believed the responsibility lay with him, not Clint Barton, yet his internal principles remained as solid as iron. He could understand Hawkeye's helplessness as a soldier on the battlefield, but he would never accept it as the way a hero should conduct themselves.
"Batman, I don't have time for a lecture. I've already sent the Dark Wind Syndicate's trade records to the encrypted email address you provided," Ronin said. "What about Black Widow?"
"She is with me," Batman said.
"Thanks." With that, Ronin terminated the encrypted communication.
On the rooftop of the Flatiron Building, Black Widow's eyes darted around. She had heard Batman speaking to someone, and it seemed he had inadvertently let a name slip: "Clint."
"Clint Barton?" Black Widow asked immediately, seeing that Batman appeared to have finished his conversation.
"Correct." Batman's voice echoed in her ear like a ghost.
The next second, Black Widow felt the constraints on her body loosen. The webbing that had been incredibly sticky a moment ago suddenly transformed, feeling like an ordinary rope net.
Black Widow scrambled to her feet and watched as the webbing decomposed and vanished into the air at high speed.
She turned her head and saw a pitch-black figure with pointed ears standing silently just a step away on the rooftop, looking like a silent statue.
I need to find a way to stay by Batman's side, but I can't just ask directly, Black Widow thought. She turned and began to run toward the edge of the Flatiron Building's roof.
But before she could take more than two steps, she felt a sudden tug around her waist.
She looked down to find a strand of black webbing firmly wrapped around her. The other end was held by Batman.
Just as I thought! Black Widow rejoiced inwardly, though she maintained an expression of panicked shock. She cried out, "What are you doing?!"
"I need to keep you with me until Clint Barton appears before me," Batman said.
In the office of the Manhattan Police Commissioner.
Following the dinosaur invasion, the performance of Nathan Garrett—a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and the Black Knight, inheritor of the Whitman family legacy—had been clear for all to see.
Initially, Commissioner George Stacy had his doubts about Garrett's S.H.I.E.L.D. credentials, but those doubts had long since evaporated with the arrival of several S.H.I.E.L.D. transport helicopters earlier that day.
As Garrett had promised, those transports took away almost all the dinosaur carcasses and the primitive men held in the precinct's interrogation rooms, resolving a massive headache for George Stacy.
Fortunately, expert testing showed that the ancient bacteria carried by the dinosaurs and primitive humans were not fatal to modern people; only a few individuals who had come into close contact with the dinosaurs exhibited symptoms like coughing or fever.
Furthermore, Garrett had explicitly stated that he was sent to New York by S.H.I.E.L.D. to arrest Batman. This caused Commissioner George Stacy's trust in Garrett to reach an almost absolute level.
It was precisely because of this trust that Garrett, sitting across from the Commissioner's desk, uttered a sentence that made George Stacy bolt upright.
"Commissioner Stacy, I need to orchestrate a bombing—as a criminal."
George Stacy looked at Garrett in disbelief. "What are you saying?"
Even inside the police station, Nathan Garrett remained clad in his pitch-black medieval knight armor, cradling his dark helmet in his arms.
"You heard me correctly, Commissioner." Garrett smiled, standing up and pressing down on George's shoulders to guide him back into his seat. "It is merely a plan; it won't actually be carried out."
"Not even as a plan, Garrett," Commissioner Stacy said, shaking his head. "I am the Commissioner of Manhattan, and you are a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Do you realize what orchestrating a bombing—even just the planning of one—means for both of us?"
"It means that from the very first step of this plan, we both become criminals in every sense of the word, Commissioner." Garrett's face still bore a smile, looking every bit the refined gentleman. "But what if I told you the purpose of this operation is to arrest Batman?"
"By telling me this, it's obvious you want the NYPD to cooperate with your operation," Stacy said. "I need to consult with the New York Police Department; I cannot agree to this on my own."
Garrett made a "be my guest" gesture, smiling as he watched George Stacy pick up the desk phone to call the main headquarters.
Meanwhile, inside the Batcave.
Black Widow didn't even know when she had lost consciousness. All she knew was that when she slowly opened her eyes, she was met with total darkness.
She moved her limbs and found she wasn't restrained, so she reached up to touch her face.
Her fingers met something ice-cold. A mask made of some specialized metallic material, etched with strange, faint patterns, was fitted seamlessly to her face.
Black Widow tried to slide her nails into the gap where the mask met her skin to pry it off, but a cold voice rang out in her ear as she moved.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
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