Chapter 280: Do You Trust SHIELD?
"You want borrowing Max Dillon?" Tony Stark lifted his metal mask, observing Batman peculiarly. "What do you want doing? Required testing is completely finished—whether what you've considered or haven't considered."
"Not continuing testing him. Rather currently I precisely lack one assistant. Nobody's more suitable than Max Dillon." Batman said.
"You might speak more clearly." Tony pursued.
Batman nodded slightly. Though his relationship with Tony Stark wasn't as close as North Brother Island's Dr. Banner and others, at minimum they counted as friends.
Moreover, after borrowing Max Dillon, required tasks were plainly-stated. Batman didn't intend concealing:
"I need making him return to Oscorp Group employment."
"I disagree." Tony Stark disagreed. But he knew Batman's words hadn't finished. "However you can explain reasons for doing this. Perhaps you'll persuade me."
"Two months ago, Manhattan Precinct experienced explosions one night. You should know this matter." Batman said.
Tony nodded. NYPD's external claims were natural gas pipeline leaks. Then Tony was still busy with Jericho missile development—hadn't excessively concerned this matter. Only heard about it.
"Explosion causes were creatures named 'Green Goblin' throwing bombs at precincts." Batman said. "Green Goblin possesses another name you're more familiar with—Norman Osborn."
Tony Stark's expression immediately became peculiar:
"That always-greasy-looking-hair old man? Oscorp Group's founder?"
Batman nodded.
"Oscorp Group truly produces talents abundantly." Tony Stark casually sighed. "However what relationship does this have borrowing Max Dillon?"
"I need making him protecting Norman Osborn."
"Wait... protecting?"
"Correct."
Batman briefly explained events occurring with Norman Osborn, explaining reasons not sending him to prison.
"Have you considered one problem? If crises genuinely occur that even you cannot control, Max Dillon also couldn't prevent Norman Osborn re-transforming into Green Goblin."
Tony Stark seriously finished listening to Batman's explanations, asking one fatal question:
"By then, Green Goblin will re-commit crimes, re-act... Have you considered problems requiring you bearing responsibility for this?"
Batman remained expressionless, voice low:
"I've considered it."
"What if Green Goblin kills again?" Tony Stark pressed step-by-step. "Killing those innocent people who—as long as Norman gets confined into cages never seeing daylight—wouldn't die because of him?"
"I've already preemptively made preventive measures sufficient preventing such accidents." Batman said.
Tony Stark rarely showed slight seriousness, facing Batman while slightly raising volume:
"If asking me, you should immediately constructing one steel cage—completely confining Norman Osborn inside, permanently eliminating future troubles."
"Norman Osborn is also victim." Batman's voice consistently maintained unchanged tones. "He needs second rebirth opportunities."
"But these opportunities shouldn't be given by you!" Tony Stark unhesitatingly refuted.
Venom Robin stared wide-eyed, observing both parties falling into silence after Tony Stark's words finished.
This represented—following previous Batman as Peter Parker identity dissuading Tony stopping weapons sales—both parties' second disagreement occurrence.
Venom Robin stood from Batman's feet, rubbing fists while standing beside Batman—confronting Mark-IV-wearing Tony Stark.
But quickly, one large hand pressed Venom Robin's shoulder.
Venom Robin looked upward toward Batman. Only observing Batman slowly shaking his head toward him:
"No need for this, Robin. Stark isn't enemy."
"Oh."
Hearing Batman speak this sentence, Venom Robin immediately understood today's fight couldn't start. Gloomily sat down again.
"Tony, what you want saying is handing Norman Osborn to SHIELD, correct?" After pressing Venom Robin, Batman asked Tony.
"Naturally." Tony Stark said.
"Do you trust SHIELD?" Batman pursued.
"...Should I answer trusting or not trusting?" Tony Stark felt somewhat bewildered by Batman's question. "My dad participated establishing SHIELD. I feel I should choose trusting them."
"However..."
Before Batman spoke, Tony Stark demonstrated his intelligent brain—associating problems within consecutive events occurring with Green Goblin that Batman had just explained regarding Norman Osborn being Green Goblin:
"However, Green Goblin's appearance until now—two months have passed. Most of that time wasn't even within your control... During this period where was SHIELD?"
Tony Stark's heart raised doubts. Batman threw one heavyweight bomb at this moment:
"I've already definitely collected information that Hydra didn't vanish after World War II. They've even infiltrated government and SHIELD."
"I cannot trust them, Tony."
Tony Stark sighed:
"So you'd rather personally bearing Norman Osborn's possibly-future-committed crimes rather than handing him to SHIELD?"
"Precisely so." Batman said.
"I understand." Tony Stark—CLANG—closed his metal mask. Foot thrusters sprayed flames lifting him, suspending mid-air. "I need returning, properly contemplating this matter, plus obtaining Max Dillon's opinions."
Finishing speaking, Tony Stark turned suddenly soaring—rushing into cloud layers.
"What if Max Dillon disagrees?" Venom Robin looked upward asking Batman.
Words barely finished—Batman and Venom Robin simultaneously looked downward toward horizontal streets below Empire State Building.
On streets, one truck swayed wobbling toward intersection directions—obviously direction already lost control.
Precisely currently the intersection showed red lights. If allowing this truck rampaging through, for vertical-street traffic flows this was tantamount to one disaster.
"Then switch one plan." Batman said, leaping from Empire State Building edge. Venom Robin rapidly twisted his rear departing from seated rooftop edge—also following while jumping downward.
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Empire State Building frontal horizontal streets. Jack Monroe desperately gripped steering wheels, attempting reclaiming his truck's control rights.
One-sentence introduction: Fourth-generation Captain America's assistant "Fourth-generation Bucky," "Nomad" Jack...
But precisely during this damned tense moment, that damned brake pedal couldn't be pressed downward whatsoever.
This out-of-control truck not only didn't decelerate stopping—conversely accelerated rushing toward red-light-illuminated intersections.
"Damn! Damn!" Jack Monroe fearfully gritted teeth cursing.
He'd been normally piloting trucks traveling on roads. But seven-eight seconds ago, Jack Monroe happened glancing at Empire State Building's rooftop.
Jack Monroe's original intent was appreciating this magnificent building. But one red firelight directly rushed skyward from Empire State Building apex—attracting all his attention.
When he recovered awareness, the truck had already lost control.
"Damn!" Jack Monroe tightly bit rear molars.
Ten meters, five meters... The truck approached frontal vertical-street traffic flows increasingly closer.
Watching disaster about to occur, Jack Monroe's mind recalled his just-marriage-discussing girlfriend, remembered these days—due to physical discomfort resting home, temporarily entrusting transport tasks to himself—Father, plus household-laboring Mother.
Happy life hadn't yet arrived. Everything would be destroyed in his hands. Jack Monroe couldn't restrain closing eyes.
Four meters, three meters...
Just as Jack Monroe thought himself finished, consecutive dense rainstorm-striking-cargo-compartment sounds—PITTER-PATTER—emerged.
Not just cargo compartments. Even truck heads, surrounding roads, streetside buildings simultaneously produced these sounds.
Currently was daytime. Countless white web strands shot from Batman's wrists—sticking onto trucks plus other surrounding roads.
The truck finally rushed to intersections. But same moment—enormous pulling forces transmitted from all directions, pulling Jack Monroe's truck producing metal-overload CREAK sounds.
BANG!
Amid muffled sounds, rapidly-traveling trucks suddenly paused—forcibly braked stopped by external forces.
Jack Monroe didn't await accident occurrences. He opened eyes, observing one figure with two sharp-eared protrusions standing before trucks. The opponent was entirely pitch-black—only expressionless chin exposed outside.
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