"T'Challa, I need the Panther Goddess's help."
Since Alfred required it, Batman contacted Black Panther T'Challa without a moment's hesitation.
"Batman, my brother," Black Panther T'Challa's warm voice rang through the communication link. "What kind of help do you need?"
Batman exchanged a glance with Alfred and spoke:
"I need to get close to the temple."
Batman had long since learned from T'Challa that the purple panther in the temple beneath the royal city of Wakanda—the one slain by the executioner Skurge—was not the Panther Goddess herself, but merely a guardian protecting the temple.
Even if such guardians perished, after a period of time, they would revive within the temple.
"You don't need to go inside?" Black Panther T'Challa sounded somewhat surprised.
"No," Batman said.
"If it's merely that, you didn't even need to tell me," T'Challa said warmly. "Everything in Wakanda is forever open to you."
T'Challa shook his head with a helpless smile; he had expected Batman to come up with some troublesome request, yet it turned out to be nothing more than touching base with the temple.
"Thank you," Batman said.
"When do you plan to come over?" T'Challa's tone was brimming with anticipation. Last time Batman had departed in a rush, but this time he was determined to host him properly and fulfill the duties of a gracious host.
"Within three days," Batman said.
The omni-wave projector could not be used lightly. The frequency previously transmitted by this technological artifact—which was heavily suspected to belong to another intelligent species—was something even Batman had failed to capture at the time.
While that was partly due to Batman's hardware equipment being far too outdated back then, it was undeniable that the technological level of the omni-wave projector was exceptionally high.
The Tesseract, on the other hand, could open portals by inputting energy, and according to calculations by Batman and Alfred, it did not carry the hidden risks of the omni-wave projector.
However, the function of long-distance teleportation was something Hydra had failed to figure out from the end of World War II right up to the present day, and even Otto and Banner working in tandem would require time to resolve it.
If Batman wished to leave Bat Island now and travel to a distant location, he still had only one mode of transportation: piloting the "Shadow" Batwing.
"Why not depart right now?"
Once Batman and Black Panther T'Challa cut the communication, Alfred inquired.
"Alfred, you're asking a question with an obvious answer," Batman said.
"Heh." Alfred let out a dry chuckle, watching Batman with a smile that carried unspoken meaning.
Under Alfred's steady gaze, Batman calmly continued with his work.
Yet even five or six minutes later, Alfred was still looking at Batman with a smile and saying nothing, forcing Batman to finally halt what he was doing and look up at Alfred:
"Laugh if you want, Alfred. I can't just leave immediately; I need to ensure the safety of the three little ones."
Venom Robin, Spider-Man Benjamin Reilly, and Bat-Gwen—none of these three were of mature age, and to Batman and Alfred, they genuinely qualified as nothing more than "little ones."
Robin and Ben Reilly were investigating information on the serial killer Cletus Kasady in Brooklyn, and tonight marked Gwen's very first outing.
Batman had to keep tabs on the situations of all three simultaneously; should trouble strike anywhere, Batman would head over to provide backup instantly.
"You're feeling nostalgic for this kind of feeling, too, aren't you?" Alfred said with a smile.
"Indeed, very nostalgic," Batman didn't dodge the topic. "And I do indeed miss Dick, Tim, and the rest of them."
"You'd only ever say that to me. The moment you actually returned to Gotham and saw Robin and the rest, you wouldn't be able to utter a single word," Alfred teased.
Batman offered no comment on that.
"Let's consider this topic closed," Alfred said. "I am monitoring the movements of the three little ones, and currently, there are zero issues."
Another half-hour passed.
Finally, Iron Man—who had traveled alone to Sokovia a few days prior—sent a message:
"Batman, I need you."
"Specifics?" Batman asked.
Tony Stark's voice came through, sounding as though he wasn't inside the Mark armor, but rather aboard a helicopter:
"Go pick someone up at the airport... Don't rush to refuse. I need you in your identity as Peter Parker to go pick up a pair of twin siblings at the airport. The sister is Wanda Maximoff, and the brother is Pietro Django Maximoff."
Batman remained silent, but Tony still sensed a hint of rejection, prompting him to drop another heavyweight bombshell:
"These two individuals are mutants."
"I'll go." This time, Batman accepted Tony's request without the slightest hesitation. "Though how did you confirm their identities as mutants?"
"I secretly collected body hair samples from Wolverine and analyzed his genetic composition. Both Wanda and Pietro possess portions of their DNA that differ noticeably from normal humans, matching Logan's anomalies," Tony said.
Alfred offered a silent, subtle smile on the side.
Just as Batman could notice mutants and their genetic anomalies, Tony Stark was entirely capable of noticing them as well.
"This time when I went to Sokovia, I didn't make direct contact with the siblings; instead, I used your name to reach out to them... So Peter, you have one hour to prepare. The flight they're taking will land at LaGuardia Airport in an hour."
With that, Iron Man Tony severed the encrypted communication, leaving Batman and Alfred staring at each other in speechless silence.
"Tony's worried that if he revealed his identity as Tony Stark, the twin siblings—who were tormented by a Jericho missile just a stone's throw away for two whole days—would instantly view him as an enemy, right?" Alfred said.
Batman nodded.
An hour later, LaGuardia Airport.
This place lay exceedingly close to North and South Brother Island, yet no one would be insane enough to attempt traveling to those two islands.
After all, in the eyes of outsiders, those two islands remained a plague-and-disease-ridden hell on earth.
Batman had shed his Gargoyle Suit, donning a well-tailored wool suit as he sat in the backseat of a luxury executive car. His current identity was none other than the genuine power-wielder of the Parker Group, Peter Parker.
Driving the vehicle was Stark Industries' personal bodyguard and chauffeur, Happy Hogan.
Peter Parker had no personal driver of his own, so he had temporarily borrowed Happy from Tony.
Happy had matured significantly compared to before—not merely in terms of physical bulk, but temperament as well.
Even so, sitting in the driver's seat, he couldn't resist glancing repeatedly through the rearview mirror at Peter Parker sitting in the back.
"Mr. Parker, you seem to have grown a bit taller than before," Happy held back for a long stretch before popping out a piece of idle chatter devoid of nutritional value.
"Because I am still very young," Peter Parker—meaning Batman—returned a similarly flavorless reply.
"I remember the first time I laid eyes on you, I was supposed to bar you at the door, but I'm damn glad I didn't do that back then, or else Mr. Stark would have lost a good friend, and I would have lost a great job," Happy laughed heartily.
Batman offered a subtle smile without replying.
He had subjected Happy to a degree of hypnotic conditioning back then; otherwise, gaining an audience with Tony certainly wouldn't have gone that smoothly.
Amidst their casual back-and-forth banter with Happy, an international passenger airliner touched down smoothly on the runway at LaGuardia Airport.
The mutant siblings, Wanda and Pietro, had arrived.
--
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