The Ravencroft Institute was situated in a remote, uninhabited corner far from the center of New York City, where the roads had long been overgrown with weeds.
If not for someone deliberately seeking it out, no one would ever find this Victorian-style castle that looked like an abandoned haunted house from afar, which now served as a psychiatric hospital.
After driving for over three hours, ignoring the cacophonous cawing and chaotic flight of crows all around, Batman, dressed in a thin trench coat, stood before the gates of this psychiatric hospital.
Just like Arkham Asylum, this psychiatric hospital had almost no network connections to the outside world. The hacking methods Batman commonly used had very limited effectiveness here; he had to visit in person to obtain any information.
"No entry ahead."
Before Batman could stand at the gates for too long, a group of sentries armed with guns came rushing over in small steps. Through the iron barred gate, they unceremoniously issued an eviction order to Batman.
"I'm here to visit Mr. Norman Osborn," Batman said. "My name is Valentine, and I'm a board member of Oscorp."
As he spoke, Batman discreetly extended one hand, passing over a small stack of U.S. dollar bills.
The sentry swallowed, captivated by the unique charm of Benjamin Franklin printed on the hundred-dollar bills. He reached out to take them, then divided them among his companions with remarkable speed before turning back to Batman:
"Please wait a moment; I'll report this."
Batman nodded slightly, watching as one sentry took a walkie-talkie and stepped aside. A minute later, he returned:
"I'm sorry, Mr. Valentine, but the Norman Osborn you're here to visit was secretly transferred yesterday..."
The sentry patted his pocket, afraid that Batman might demand back the bills he had generously handed over.
But Batman didn't do that. Instead, with a flick of his wrist, he produced another stack of bills like a magic trick:
"Could I speak with the security supervisor in charge of his ward, or his attending physician?"
"Of course!" the sentry said without hesitation.
Money and the name of Oscorp were efficient passes. Soon, Batman met the somewhat nervous psychiatrist in charge of Norman Osborn, Tanis Nevis.
"Mr. Valentine, please."
Tanis Nevis was a plain-looking female doctor, wearing a white coat, glasses, and a high ponytail.
There were countless female doctors in all of New York dressed just like her. Batman didn't pay her much attention and, after entering the Ravencroft Institute with her, got straight to the point:
"Dr. Nevis, please let me see Norman Osborn's transfer paperwork."
Batman's voice was magnetic at that moment. Peter Parker's young face, paired with stubble, looked considerably more mature, and combined with Batman's gentle gaze, it made the female doctor even more nervous:
"No problem, but may I ask what exactly you're planning to do?"
"Oscorp needs to provide necessary legal support for Mr. Osborn, but he was transferred without our knowledge. I need to know what happened," Batman said.
"Oh, I see. Please wait a moment." Dr. Tanis Nevis nodded hurriedly, leading Batman quickly to her office and retrieving a stack of documents from a drawer.
Batman took the documents, his brow furrowing deeper the more he read.
The documents appeared to have no issues, but the problem lay precisely in that.
From receiving the order, to approval, execution, and finally Norman Osborn's transfer, all the procedures were thoroughly complete, with full court transfer orders and receipts from the marshals' service. Everything seemed airtight.
But in a bureaucratic system, this kind of speed was the biggest flaw in itself. Some organization with unimaginable power was behind this.
Batman didn't pressure the female doctor; it wasn't her fault to begin with:
"Miss Nevis, could you take me to see Norman Osborn's isolation ward?"
"Yes, but I can't guarantee you'll find any useful information," Tanis Nevis said.
Batman said nothing. After Tanis Nevis put away the documents, she led him straight to the ward.
The place was empty and spotless, as if all traces had been lost.
But Batman showed no disappointment. Instead, his nostrils flared slightly, distinguishing the clues he needed from the dozens of mingled scents in the air.
"There's the smell of gun oil from firearm maintenance in the air, different from the scent on the sentries' guns."
Peter Parker's super senses were aiding Batman in gathering clues. After carefully discerning the odors in the air, he made his judgment, then circled around Dr. Tanis Nevis a few times.
The female doctor seemed like she hadn't interacted with normal people outside the psychiatric hospital in a long time. Faced with Batman circling her—a man whose appearance and demeanor were top-tier—her not particularly attractive face flushed red.
But Batman's eyes weren't on the female doctor. Instead, he shifted his steps, observing the marks on the floor from different angles.
Though the floor had been cleaned, at certain angles, faint, unique boot sole patterns could be seen pressed into it.
Ordinary eyes would struggle to spot them, but Peter Parker's vision saw them crystal clear.
The depth and spacing of the treads indicated the wearer had astonishing weight, with steady strides—the result of long-term military training. This was nothing like ordinary marshals, and certainly different from the Ravencroft Institute's sentries who could be easily bought with money.
"Only four people. It doesn't look like they used force to escort him; perhaps they communicated something with Norman, and he went willingly."
"Judging from Norman's footprints, there are indeed no signs of struggle."
Batman compiled the information he had gathered, committing all the clues to memory, then turned to the female doctor and asked:
"Finally, could you take me to the surveillance room one more time, miss?"
"N-No problem!"
Tanis Nevis was practically putty in Batman's hands. She avoided his eyes, lowering her head as she agreed.
The reason Batman hadn't immediately asked to go to the surveillance room to check the footage was that he suspected the recordings had already been tampered with.
When Batman arrived at the surveillance room a few minutes later, he found that was indeed the case.
And the surveillance hadn't been deleted; the cameras had been covered, and even the audio was barely audible.
"Miss Nevis, if it's convenient, may I ask if you're married?"
Batman turned to the female doctor, asking a question that made her blush with shame, unable to meet his gaze directly.
"I-I'm not yet..." the female doctor said softly, head down.
In the instant she lowered her head, a USB drive slipped out from the sleeve of Batman's thin trench coat and was inserted into the surveillance room's computer.
The pre-prepared program on the USB drive activated silently the moment it was plugged in, rapidly copying the surveillance footage.
Two minutes later, as the computer screen popped up a completion notification, Batman quietly removed the USB drive and bid farewell to Dr. Tanis Nevis.
"Mr. Valentine, this is my phone number..."
Just as Batman was about to step out of this Victorian-style castle turned psychiatric hospital, the female doctor quickly pulled out paper and pen from her pocket, scribbled a string of numbers, and handed it to him.
Batman took the paper with her phone number, smiled at her, then pocketed it before getting into the car and driving off.
He was heading to the City Hall subway station to use the computers there to analyze the extremely faint audio from the surveillance footage, as well as to identify the brand of gun oil he had smelled in Norman Osborn's ward, and thereby figure out exactly who had transferred Norman.
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