General Ross was not a man who accepted pressure lightly.
Public criticism.
Media accusations.
Legal threats.
Corporate backlash.
He endured them all.
Which meant one thing — his objective inside the Osborn Group was worth the cost.
When Professor Curt Connors finished reading the second email and watched it erase itself without leaving a trace, he didn't waste time questioning how the so-called private detective had managed such a thing.
Instead, he looked directly at Peter.
"We cannot let General Ross succeed."
Batman nodded.
In that quiet laboratory, without contracts or signatures, an alliance was formed.
Their goal was simple:
Stop Ross.
---
"Professor," Batman said calmly, "you are the leading expert in biotechnology here. I need you to quickly identify every research project Ross could weaponize."
Connors understood immediately.
Reptile regeneration.
Bio-electric enhancement.
Neuro-control systems.
Cross-species DNA splicing.
Even unfinished theoretical models could be dangerous in the wrong hands.
"I'll analyze everything," Connors replied. "But how do you plan to move the data? Ross controls this building."
Batman's voice remained steady.
"I'm going to invite someone who can attract his full attention."
Connors narrowed his eyes.
He understood.
Data transfer was not a simple plug-and-run operation. It required time. Decryption. Duplication. Secure relocation.
Time was the real currency.
And Ross would not grant it willingly.
Which meant—
A distraction.
A dramatic one.
---
Without drawing attention, Batman left Osborn Tower as Clark.
Once outside surveillance range, he slipped into an abandoned municipal subway station.
Moments later—
Crimson headlights cut through the darkness.
The Batmobile rolled forward.
Batman shed the lab coat.
The cape settled across armored shoulders.
Clark was finished.
Now it was Batman's turn.
---
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A red signal blinked on the Batmobile display.
Earlier, during his staged interruption in Connors' lab, Batman had discreetly attached a miniature tracking device — disguised as a sleeve button — to General Thaddeus Ross.
It transmitted location.
It transmitted audio.
Ross had no idea.
With assistance from the onboard AI, Batman mapped a direct underground approach and emerged one kilometer from Osborn Tower.
Then—
The engine roared.
The Batmobile launched forward like a missile.
---
The thunder of the engine echoed across the blockaded corporate plaza.
Soldiers turned instantly.
Inside the sixtieth-floor office, Ross lifted binoculars to his eyes.
Batman had no intention of arresting him.
That would solve nothing.
Military command chains do not collapse with one arrest. A deputy would take over. The operation would continue.
Worse — Ross would become a martyr.
No.
This required controlled chaos.
---
"Stop immediately!" a soldier shouted through an armored vehicle loudspeaker. "Exit the vehicle! Hands on your head!"
The Batmobile accelerated.
Ross received updates through his earpiece.
He made a decision.
"Do not fire explosives. Form a human barrier."
Ten soldiers stood shoulder to shoulder.
The Batmobile did not slow.
Three hundred meters.
Two hundred.
One hundred—
Then—
The vehicle skidded violently to a halt.
The roof ejected.
Batman launched upward.
Smoke grenades hit the pavement.
White fog exploded outward.
Confusion.
Shouting.
Footsteps.
Exactly as planned.
---
On the twentieth floor, Professor Connors heard the chaos.
His instincts told him to look.
He didn't.
He understood the signal.
This was his window.
With one hand, he moved as quickly as possible.
File by file.
Project by project.
He filtered every biotechnology that could be exploited for super-soldier application.
Bio-electric nerve amplification.
Reptilian regeneration modeling.
Neuro-inhibitor override systems.
Genetic engineering archives.
He transferred them onto encrypted storage.
Every second mattered.
He glanced briefly at his empty sleeve.
If only he had both arms…
But he pushed forward.
Responsibility outweighed limitation.
---
Outside, Batman moved like a shadow inside smoke.
He disarmed two soldiers without injury.
Disabled a third vehicle.
Cut external surveillance feeds.
He wasn't there to win.
He was there to occupy.
And Ross watched.
Frustrated.
Controlled.
Calculating.
Batman could feel it.
Ross wanted Hulk-level weapons.
But he feared public escalation.
Which meant Ross would hold back heavy artillery.
Batman used that restraint against him.
---
Meanwhile…
One hundred kilometers from the Cube Prison in Wyoming—
A jeep sped across the desert road.
Inside was Natasha Romanoff.
On the passenger seat—
A reinforced briefcase.
Inside—
Bruce Banner's blood.
The case was shielded to contain gamma radiation.
She stopped near a dead tree in open terrain.
Two masked figures emerged from nowhere.
No insignia.
No words.
Natasha handed them the case.
Then—
An arrow split the air.
It pierced the case handle and pinned it into the dirt.
The masked men drew weapons.
Natasha raised her pistol.
Fifty meters away stood Clint Barton, bow fully drawn.
"Why?" Clint demanded. "Where are you taking Banner's blood?"
The bowstring creaked tighter.
"We've worked together for years. You owe me an explanation."
Natasha sighed softly.
"I think you owe one."
Her eyes hardened.
"Why are you working for HYDRA?"
Clint froze.
HYDRA?
His heart skipped.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Natasha didn't lower her weapon.
"Banner's blood is worth millions. If you find the right buyer."
The masked men shifted slightly.
Clint understood.
They were HYDRA.
But Natasha—
Was she compromised?
Or playing deeper?
Before he could decide—
She moved.
Bang. Bang.
Two precise shots.
The masked agents fell instantly.
Foreheads pierced.
Dead.
Clint hesitated.
Too long.
A third shot rang out.
Pain exploded in his abdomen.
He collapsed.
Natasha stepped forward.
"I'll miss working with you, Clint."
She knelt beside him.
"The blood was bait."
Then she activated her communicator.
"Director Fury. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been infiltrated. I witnessed Agent Clint making contact with HYDRA."
Pause.
"The agents are neutralized. Should Hawkeye be transferred to the Cube Prison?"
Confirmation came.
She tied Clint's hands.
Loaded him into the jeep.
Then she picked up the case.
Something was wrong.
The radiation detector showed zero gamma output.
Yet the blood sample remained intact.
Her eyes narrowed.
She activated another secure channel.
"The blood is compromised."
A male voice answered.
Cold.
Controlled.
"Excellent. Transport Dr. Banner to Manhattan. No further interference required."
A pause.
Then—
"Hail HYDRA."
Natasha's voice remained steady.
"Hail HYDRA."
---
Back in New York—
Smoke still filled the plaza.
Batman retreated strategically as military reinforcements regrouped.
He had achieved his goal.
Time.
On the twentieth floor, Professor Connors completed the final data transfer.
Core biological research was secured.
Ross would not mass-produce monsters from Osborn technology.
Not today.
---
But elsewhere—
HYDRA had moved ahead of everyone.
They no longer wanted Banner's blood.
They wanted Banner himself.
And they were bringing him—
To Manhattan.
Where Ross waited.
Where Connors worked.
Where Batman stood.
Three power struggles were converging.
Military ambition.
Corporate science.
Secret infiltration.
And beneath it all—
An ancient organization whispering in the dark.
Long live HYDRA.
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