A bank card snapped between Silver Sable's fingers, flicked out, struck the wall, and sprang neatly back to her fingertips.
It held three million dollars—"hush money" Norman Osborn had paid after Silver Sable discovered the human experiments on Oscorp's B2 level.
Sitting in the CEO chair of Sable International, she casually tossed the card toward the open window.
From the way she threw it, she clearly had no intention of keeping it—or the three million on it.
Pa!
The instant the card sailed out, two fingers flashed in from outside, pinched it midair, and flicked it back onto her desk.
Someone being outside wasn't unusual—except Sable International was on the 20th floor.
An intruder.
That was Silver Sable's first thought. She planted both hands on the desk, vaulted it, and without even looking to see who was at the window, whipped a high kick.
As the head of a security firm, she'd dealt with more than a few ambushes from rivals and enemies. But a broad-daylight break-in through her window? That was a first.
Her kick landed flush—on a man built like a slab of steel. He didn't budge. Pain zinged up her own leg.
She didn't follow up. Using the recoil, she rolled, sprang to her feet, and raised a tight guard.
Only then did she get a good look: a figure completely encased in a black-gray armored suit with hard, knife-edged lines, and a pair of short, blade-like ears on the cowl. The exposed jaw looked human—but after the Daily Bugle had run photos of a "Squid-Man," and given how solid he felt, she doubted that visible jaw wasn't a decoy.
"Who hired you? I'll pay double."
The moment she saw him she'd decided not to make an enemy of him. That earlier kick should've shattered a normal person's ribs; he was standing at the window as if nothing had happened.
It was Batman. He lowered his voice. "I'm not here to fight you, Silver Sable."
"And you are…?"
She swept her silver-gray hair behind an ear—freeing her vision if things went south—and kept her tone even.
"Norman's B2 lab," Batman prompted when she didn't recognize him.
At that, her blank look clicked into recognition. "You're the man in black from that night?"
Back in Oscorp's underground lab he'd only worn a stealth suit; now he was in full armor—no wonder she hadn't placed him.
"That's me," Batman said.
"What do you want?" She dropped her guard and sauntered back behind the desk.
"I need a lawyer," Batman said, still motionless at the window.
"A lawyer?" She lounged in the chair, oddly relaxed. "I thought you were here to plan how we make Norman Osborn's crimes public.
"I sent my footage to the Daily Bugle. Nothing hit the next day. You know why?"
"The military buried it," Batman said.
"Norman has military cover? That makes it ugly," Silver Sable said. "Even if we dump the evidence on social media, it'll get scrubbed."
Silence for a beat.
"…So what's your play?" he asked.
He'd come only to get a referral to a lawyer gutsy enough to take the case—but it sounded like she wanted a piece of Oscorp too.
"You know who his military backer is? Which general?" she countered.
"General Ross. U.S. Air Force, lieutenant general."
Silver Sable stiffened. "A lieutenant general? God. Sable International has barely two hundred people; he can move whole divisions on a whim…"
"Wait—say his name again?"
"General Ross," Batman repeated.
"I can strip Norman of his protection." A sly smile crept in. "From what I know, Ross has made capturing the Hulk his life's mission. If I can find the Hulk, Ross will deploy.
"And he won't be free to cover for Norman."
The more she thought, the more excited she got, pacing the office. "Ross fronts for Norman because he wants something that can counter the Hulk—enough to tolerate human experimentation.
"I'll prep and leave in a few days to hunt the Hulk."
She glanced back at Batman, still a statue by the window. "Right—you said you needed a lawyer. New York has over three hundred firms. Why come to a security company?"
"Because my target is also Oscorp," Batman said.
"Sorry—Sable International doesn't have a standing counsel. If we did, I'd pass a name along—"
The light in the office brightened; she turned. The window was empty. He was gone.
Knock, knock.
Her office door opened; a few Sable International staff stepped in.
"Jason, verify Norman Osborn's backing—see if it's what that man said," she ordered.
"You don't believe him?" Jason glanced at the window. "I thought he came to deliver intel."
Silver Sable shook her head with a faint laugh. "I don't even know him. Why would I believe him?"
Batman had expected finding a lawyer with the guts and chops would be hard—but not this hard. He shelved it for now. First priority: lining up funding for Dr. Octavius's experiment.
On a rooftop across the street—
Thwit.
A tiny sound. The nitrogen spring spat a webline; Batman yanked and rocketed off the ledge.
Sable International sat on the edge of Hell's Kitchen. He needed to get back to the shipyard, shed the suit, and move as Peter Parker again.
A short baton whistled at the back of his head. He released the line, snapped a hand up, and batted it aside.
It clattered across the roof and rolled to a stop at the boots of a man in a dark red suit—with two short horns on his brow.