Chapter 338: Operation Arrest Batman
"I've successfully obtained all of Darkwind's trade records, Batman."
An hour later, in a hidden wine cellar on Flower Street—where ronin Clint Barton had single-handedly fought over a hundred Darkwind thugs with nothing but a katana—the ronin connected to Batman via encrypted communication.
Batman's low voice came through as always. "Give me a brief process report."
"I killed almost all of Darkwind's core members and enforcers," the ronin said.
Batman fell silent for half a second. "Why?"
"I had no choice," the ronin said.
"Reason?"
"To save more people."
On the Flatiron Building's rooftop, Batman looked at Black Widow trapped in his web and fell silent again for a moment.
Batman didn't immediately rebuke Hawkeye for killing.
That was his only defense against falling into darkness—the foundation of his tragic life's redemption. Batman had once said he must become "the silent guardian, the watchful protector," and the cornerstone of that path was not killing.
But that didn't mean Batman would force everyone in the world to accept his principles.
Batman asked just one question: "Clint, did you try non-lethal methods for even a single second?"
"I had no other choice, Batman." Ronin Clint Barton sat on the ground, back against the wine cellar wall.
This time Batman didn't lapse into silence. Instead, he directly countered Clint Barton's response:
"In my work, I always find time for non-lethal solutions. If I can't, it means I failed to prepare properly. I'm sorry, Clint. I sent you on this mission without a plan that would let you complete it without killing. That's my failure, not yours."
Batman always believed anyone was worth saving. But Hawkeye had killed too many people—and under the premise that Batman had assigned him this mission to Japan.
Batman believed the responsibility lay with himself, not Clint Barton. But his internal principles remained solid as iron.
He could understand Hawkeye's helplessness as a soldier on the battlefield, but he would never accept this as how a hero should operate.
"Batman, I don't have time to listen to your lectures. I've sent Darkwind's trade records to the encrypted email you provided." The ronin paused. "What about Black Widow?"
"She's with me," Batman said.
"Thanks." The ronin terminated the encrypted communication.
On the Flatiron Building's rooftop, Black Widow's eyes shifted. She'd heard Batman conversing with someone—and Batman had seemingly let slip the other person's name: "Clint."
"Clint Barton?" Black Widow asked the moment Batman appeared to finish his conversation.
"Correct." Batman's voice emerged ghostlike beside Black Widow's ear.
The next second, Black Widow felt the restraints on her body loosen. What had been sticky webbing a moment ago now felt like ordinary rope netting.
Black Widow scrambled to her feet, watching the webbing rapidly decompose and vanish into the air.
She turned her head to see a dark figure with pointed ears standing silently one step away on the rooftop—like a silent statue.
'I need to find a way to stay close to Batman, but I can't make that request directly.' Black Widow's mind raced. She turned and ran toward the edge of the Flatiron Building's rooftop.
But before she'd taken two steps, Black Widow felt her waist suddenly constrict.
Looking down, she saw a black strand of webbing wrapped tightly around her waist. The other end connected to Batman.
'Just as I thought!' Black Widow rejoiced inwardly, though outwardly she assumed a panicked expression. "What do you think you're doing?!"
"I need to keep you close until Clint Barton appears before me," Batman said.
Manhattan Police Department, Captain's Office.
During the dinosaur invasion, Nathan Garrett—the SHIELD agent who was also the Black Knight of the Whitman family legacy—had proven himself in front of everyone.
Captain George Stacy had initially doubted Garrett's SHIELD credentials, but those doubts had evaporated when several SHIELD transport helicopters arrived during the day.
Just as Garrett had promised, these SHIELD transport aircraft had removed nearly all the dinosaur carcasses and the primitives held in the precinct's interrogation rooms, solving a problem that had given Captain George Stacy considerable headaches.
Fortunately, expert testing revealed the ancient bacteria carried by the dinosaurs and primitives weren't lethal to modern humans. Only people who'd had close contact with dinosaurs showed symptoms like coughing and fever.
Combined with Garrett's clear statement that SHIELD had sent him to New York to arrest Batman, Captain George Stacy's trust in Garrett had reached unprecedented levels.
Based on this trust, Garrett currently sat across from Captain George's desk and said something that made the captain jump to his feet:
"Captain George, I need to plan a bombing. As a criminal."
Captain George Stacy stared at Garrett in disbelief. "What are you saying?"
Even here in the precinct, Nathan Garrett still wore his black medieval knight armor, cradling his black helmet.
"You heard correctly, Captain." Garrett smiled, standing to press his hand on George's shoulder and guide him back into his seat. "Just the planning—it won't actually be carried out."
"Even just planning is unacceptable, Garrett." Captain George shook his head. "I'm the Manhattan Police Captain. You're a SHIELD agent. You understand what planning a bombing means—even just planning—for both of us?"
"It means the moment we begin executing this plan, we both become bona fide criminals, Captain." Garrett still wore his smile like a refined gentleman. "But what if I told you this operation's purpose is to arrest Batman?"
"By telling me this, you obviously want Manhattan PD to cooperate with your operation." Captain George said. "I need to clear this with NYPD headquarters. I can't authorize this on my own."
Garrett made a "please" gesture, smiling as Captain George picked up his desk phone to call NYPD headquarters.
Meanwhile, in the Batcave.
Black Widow didn't even know when she'd passed out. She only knew that when she groggily opened her eyes, all she saw was darkness.
She moved her hands and feet, discovering she wasn't restrained. Then she raised her hand to touch her face.
Her fingers met cold metal—some kind of special metallic material. A mask with strange patterns fit seamlessly over her face.
Black Widow slipped her fingernails into the nearly imperceptible gap where mask met skin, trying to pry it off. But a cold voice spoke as she moved:
"I'd advise against that."
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