Black Widow thought that Batman had finally lost his restraint and was initiating physical contact. She even assumed that being handcuffed was part of some kinky power play.
In her mind, she had already formulated a plan: when to provide him with some "deep stimulation," when to remove the metal mask from her face, and which position would be best to subdue him.
Black Widow knew that the hallucinations she saw whenever she removed her mask over the past few days were undoubtedly Batman's doing. She didn't believe that even during an intimate act, Batman would keep her trapped in a state of fear.
When the time came, whatever was causing her hallucinations would surely fail temporarily. That would be the perfect moment for her to exert her instincts as a master spy.
What she didn't know, however, was that while Batman had not had any intimate contact with a woman since transmigrating into this world, his past life was a different story. Whether it was Catwoman Selina Kyle, the Gotham socialite Silver St. Cloud, or even fellow superheroes like Zatanna and Wonder Woman, Diana Prince—Batman's experience in both quality and quantity, combined with a will that no external force could shake, meant he couldn't be seduced by a few physical gestures from Black Widow.
On the contrary, Batman was actually exploiting her mindset as she attempted to entice him.
"Clinton? Hawkeye?"
Sure enough, the moment Black Widow heard the name "Clinton," her supple, seemingly boneless body instantly stiffened.
If the previous reports of a collaboration between Batman and Hawkeye were true, did this mean Hawkeye had completed his mission and returned from Japan?
Now that Batman was taking her to the Empire State Building to meet Hawkeye, did it mean S.H.I.E.L.D.'s mission had ended in total failure?
Black Widow's stiffness lasted only a fraction of a second, but Batman saw it clearly.
"Put away your tricks, Natasha," Batman said, his voice low and raspy.
Without waiting for a response, Batman pressed a button on the Arkham suit, opening the rear hatch of the Batmobile.
Simultaneously, Batman pressed his palm against Black Widow's abdomen with a slight force.
Even though the strength of Peter Parker's body far exceeded the power Batman possessed back in Gotham, his meticulous control ensured the strike did no damage to Black Widow. It merely sent her flying backward.
Under this non-combative force, Black Widow's body flew back uncontrollably, soaring several meters before landing squarely in the Batmobile's rear compartment.
Clang!
The moment she landed inside, the rear hatch slammed shut with a metallic ring. Batman then leaped into the cockpit.
With a thunderous roar of the engine, the blood-red taillights of the Batmobile vanished into the darkness.
Venom Robin didn't pull his gaze away from the depths of the darkness until the last hum of the engine faded and the air currents kicked up by the Batmobile had settled.
Excluding the sleeping Harry Osborn, General Ross, Abomination (Emil Blonsky), and the Leader (Samuel Sterns) on the second level of the Batcave, Venom Robin was once again the only one left in the cave.
With Batman gone, Venom Robin's first instinct was to scurry over to the cabinet by the workbench. He extended his long tongue, swiping a large pile of chocolate and stuffing it into his mouth.
This was one of his favorite things to do. The chocolate Batman had specially designed and produced for him was rich in phenylethylamine—at levels far higher than anything found on the market. It was the thing Venom Robin loved most.
In the past, he would have devoured it recklessly, losing himself in the taste.
But this time, he froze before he could even finish chewing.
A thought occurred to him:
"Aside from last night when he needed me to call that bird-god Khonshu over... am I becoming less and less useful to the old Bat?"
The thought sent a wave of panic through him. He quickly began to recount the events of the past few days.
Since returning from New Mexico, Batman's operations could be described as entirely self-sufficient; whether Robin was there or not made zero difference.
Aside from the incident at the Pym Technologies Building where he was stung by the Wasp and ended up producing offspring, Venom Robin had played almost no role in any of Batman's actions.
He chewed the chocolate a few more times. What was usually a divine delicacy now tasted no better than dirt.
"Is it because I know too little?" Venom Robin asked himself.
The question required no deep thought. He reached a definitive conclusion within half a second.
Compared to Batman, even though he had once bonded with him and possessed a portion of his memories, his knowledge was still too shallow.
Just two days ago, Batman had hacked into Manhattan's signal stations, base stations, port docks, and the subway system. He had linked them all together to turn Manhattan into a giant Faraday cage. Venom Robin knew for a fact that he could never have achieved that.
Even if he could hack the ships at the docks, he wouldn't know how to pilot those massive vessels or how to align them perfectly along the shore.
And that was just one of Batman's most basic maneuvers.
"I don't want to learn that complicated networking and tech stuff," Venom Robin told himself, finding an excuse. "It's not that I can't learn it."
As a former Symbiote and current avatar of the Moon God, Venom Robin instinctively preferred to solve all his problems with his fists.
"Maybe I should define my own path. In those memories, no Robin ever truly inherited all of Batman's abilities. Even when that Nightwing guy stood in as Batman for a while, he couldn't do it one hundred percent."
Venom Robin "scanned" the memory fragments of Batman in his mind.
"What if I completely abandon the complex academics and focus on being Batman's assistant... or rather, just his muscle?"
"Wouldn't it be better if Batman handles the planning from the back and leaves the execution to me?"
Venom Robin imagined a scene where Batman gave the orders and he struck wherever he was told, the two of them working in perfect harmony. He straightened his neck, swallowed the half-chewed chocolate in one gulp, and nodded to himself with a sense of satisfaction.
"That's the plan!"
On the rooftop of the Empire State Building, Black Widow finally got her wish and removed the metal mask from her face.
Besides her, there were two other men on the rooftop.
One was Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye. Black Widow knew him better than anyone; he had been her partner for nearly a decade.
Although Hawkeye's stance looked a bit off—it seemed he had a leg injury, and he reeked of strong disinfectant—Black Widow wasn't worried about him.
As long as the injury wasn't irreversible, S.H.I.E.L.D. had more than enough medical resources to fix him up.
What Black Widow cared more about was the figure standing not far from Hawkeye, half-shrouded in shadow.
The eyes glowing faintly white in the darkness, the wide cape, the pointed ears, and the exposed chin—every detail announced the unmistakable identity of the Batman.
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