In Hawkeye's eyes, this so-called Batman was nothing more than a mysterious agent using an animal codename like himself, and very likely related to Black Widow's disappearance.
In these past few days in New York, the information Hawkeye collected was mostly various rumors about Batman; conversely, there was absolutely no information on Black Widow, Natasha, as if the person had evaporated into thin air.
This forced Hawkeye to suspect whether Batman might be a Hydra agent, and if Black Widow's disappearance was related to him.
But these questions couldn't be answered just by thinking. Listening to Eddie Brock describe his experiences in as much detail as possible, the image of Batman in Hawkeye's mind became increasingly clear.
A human who carries various non-lethal bombs, can shoot pitch-black threads, acts with extreme calm in a fight, and was able to easily defeat Eddie Brock when he was possessed by Venom and Anti-Venom successively.
Hawkeye wasn't foolish enough to repeat what others said or believe Batman was some kind of monster like most people in New York did.
Based on Eddie Brock's description, Hawkeye was fifty percent sure that Batman was a Hydra agent.
"...Losing Anti-Venom meant I lost everything. I can only go back to being a photographer sneaking shots of adulterers."
Eddie Brock finished recounting his experience and asked Hawkeye:
"You said you could help me find Batman. What do you plan to do?"
"I can't tell you," Hawkeye, Clint Barton, revealed a mysterious smile. "You just need to sit back and enjoy the results."
According to Hawkeye's idea, at most he would let Eddie Brock beat Batman up to vent his anger after catching him, as payment for the intelligence Eddie Brock provided.
"Heh, I guessed as much," Eddie Brock wasn't the least bit surprised. "There have been too many people asking me a heap of questions like you lately."
"Oh?" Hawkeye remained composed. "Did they look for you afterwards?"
"No, not a single one." Eddie Brock swept the fast food on the table clean.
"Do you know who they were?" Hawkeye asked again.
Eddie Brock leaned back in his chair, looking at Hawkeye's low-pressed cap brim:
"Who else could they be? Although they acted mysterious like you, wrapped up tight, I could recognize at a glance that they were reporters from the Daily Bugle, the Daily Globe, the New York Bulletin... various newspapers and TV stations."
"But you shouldn't be a reporter, right?"
"Of course not," Hawkeye smiled. "I work for the NYPD."
Under Eddie Brock's skeptical gaze, Hawkeye pulled a badge from his chest, flashed it quickly before Eddie's eyes, and quickly tucked it back in.
"Remember to keep my secret," Hawkeye, Clint Barton, said.
Eddie Brock's eyes widened. He no longer leaned back; instead, he leaned his upper body forward, hands pressing on the table, wishing he could extend his head across to the other side:
"I remember the NYPD officially issued a wanted order for Batman a week ago because of the Ryker's Island incident..."
"You must be here for that matter, right, Officer?"
Hawkeye looked at Eddie Brock, neither denying nor confirming it.
Late at night.
Hawkeye, wearing his purple sleeveless battle suit, slung his quiver behind his back and headed straight for the Metropolitan Museum with his longbow.
"This is the most recent case related to Batman, a failed burglary."
"I suspect Batman is Hydra, but this guy has been fighting criminals and stopping crimes, acting in a style completely different from Hydra."
"Maybe I can find some clues inside the museum."
Hawkeye pursed his lips tightly and moved agilely through the shadows.
The artificial lighting inside the museum late at night prevented absolute darkness. Security guards patrolled from time to time, and cameras pointed at every corner of the museum.
Although the thieves' operation failed a few days ago and nothing was lost in the museum, the Metropolitan Museum had still increased security measures.
Especially since one of the people involved in this failed burglary was Batman, whom the NYPD is currently trying to arrest; this made the Metropolitan Museum guard even more strictly.
But for Hawkeye, be it lights, cameras, or patrolling guards...
These security measures weren't enough to cause him much trouble. He precisely avoided all security systems and stealthily made his way to the Roman Gallery.
"Rubbing of a Medieval British Knight's Tomb Inscription."
Hawkeye didn't spend much effort finding the museum exhibit that had attracted the black-clad thieves and Batman.
Hawkeye knew he lacked understanding of historical artifacts; he simply memorized the patterns on the stone tablet, then began trying to find traces of Batman's past activity in the surrounding environment.
The Metropolitan Museum cleaned up various traces every day, but for Hawkeye, there were always traces that ordinary people couldn't notice, which remained even after cleaning.
He wanted to use those traces to judge more deeply what kind of guy Batman really was.
One minute, two minutes...
Hawkeye couldn't help but frown. Aside from some traces consistent with the rumors—traces left by some kind of pitch-black thread shot by Batman—there was nothing else.
And those traces were left when Batman suspended the five black-clad thieves. Apart from "five people once hung here," Hawkeye couldn't read any more effective content for the moment.
Just as he intended to leave the museum without disturbing anyone, Hawkeye's movements suddenly paused.
His body froze in place, his brain rapidly recalling details of the environment he had just observed, and then he headed straight for a specific spot.
Reaching out to grope around, Hawkeye's expression immediately darkened.
He touched a miniature sensor.
Then, without the slightest hesitation, Hawkeye quickly rolled on the ground, put his back against a display pedestal, and reached for the quiver behind him with extreme speed.
Roll, draw bow, nock arrow, aim, shoot!
Whoosh! The arrow let out a faint whistle in the air.
Completing these five movements, Hawkeye didn't even use half a second.
In the eyes of an ordinary person, Hawkeye just rolled on the ground and an arrow was loosed.
With his archery skills, even if the opponent held a gun, Hawkeye was fully confident he could take out the opponent first.
But at this moment, that lightning-fast arrow did not hit the target; instead, it firmly stuck into the museum wall, the fletching still trembling in the air.
Shwah!
As one arrow flew, Hawkeye nocked another with extreme speed, but this time he only aimed at the darkness within the museum without shooting.
He didn't speak. His sufficiently sharp vision allowed him to see the figure lurking in the darkness clearly—a figure with sharp pointed ears on top of his head.
"Oliver?" The shadow's voice was low, but Hawkeye heard a hint of probing in it. "Green Arrow?"
Hawkeye frowned slightly, holding the bowstring tight without letting go, and spoke in a low voice:
"I'm not Oliver, and I'm not some Green Arrow."
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