Late at night, in the lobby of Ponce Bank, a figure quietly unlocked the door and slipped inside without triggering any alarms.
He stood for a long time beneath the skylight that had been shattered by Batman and was now repaired. Then, moving slowly, he tried standing in the exact spots where the Christmas robbers had stood three days ago, one by one.
"From the moment Batman crashed through the window to when he left with the Christmas robbers, the entire process took no more than ten seconds.
"According to the descriptions given over the past few days by the bank clerks who witnessed the whole thing, Batman used a high-strength, pitch-black silk thread. The only company in the world today that produces a material so incredibly thin yet durable enough is Parker Industries."
"I wonder if there are any leftover threads left behind here?"
The figure searched carefully, seemingly knowing the layout of the Ponce Bank lobby and Batman's actions that day like the back of his hand.
Unfortunately, even the broken glass from the shattered skylight had long since been cleaned up. He searched for a long time but couldn't find a single clue.
Just as he was about to give up on this location and head to the next site of Batman's activities, two figures—one tall, one short; one black, one white—silently appeared behind him.
"Hello," Batman's voice was low and gravelly.
"Gah!"
Startled, the figure quickly jumped forward a step, immediately spinning around and drawing a handgun from his jacket to point at the source of the voice behind him.
"Batman!" he whispered in shock.
"You're looking for me," Batman's voice remained low and gravelly.
"That's right, but I-I-I haven't committed any crimes, I'm just a private detective! A client paid me to investigate leads on you!" he hurriedly explained.
"Who is the client?"
The one speaking this time was the short, white figure beside Batman. Although the voice deliberately mimicked Batman's gravelly tone, it still couldn't conceal its inherently youthful timbre.
"The Captain of the Queens Police Department," the private detective said.
He tried hard to make out Batman's face, but the figure was pitch-black from head to toe, making it impossible to distinguish any features.
He then looked at the short, white figure, but beneath Venom Robin's white shroud-like suit was also a pitch-black face, equally indiscernible.
"Cease your operations."
After saying this, Batman turned around. After taking a few steps, he completely blended into the darkness and disappeared.
The private detective stood rooted to the spot, blinking hard. Mustering his courage, he took a few steps forward—and with a thud, bumped straight into the wall of the Ponce Bank lobby.
He instinctively clutched his head, but then quickly lowered his hands, spreading his arms in bewilderment to feel along the wall.
"How did Batman disappear?" the private detective asked, completely lost.
He had taken the job from the Queens Police Department because he believed Batman was just an ordinary man in black armor.
But now, Batman had walked toward a wall right in front of him and vanished. This ghost-like display plunged the private detective into complete self-doubt.
"What on earth is he?" the private detective asked himself.
This question went unanswered. The private detective verified countless times that there was nothing wrong with the wall, and there were no doors nearby for Batman to have exited through. It was as if the guy had vanished into thin air.
Just as the private detective sighed and prepared to leave, his nostrils suddenly flared.
"Wait, there's a smell in the air."
This realization seemed to provide a clue. He quickly returned to the spot where Batman had just been standing and sniffed the air frantically.
"Rust, rot, and dampness."
"Does he come from the sewers?"
The private detective frowned. He simply squatted down, pressing himself close to the floor to take a sniff.
"No, this rotting, damp smell is different from a sewer. It seems to be a mix of wood and dirt."
But this still didn't give him much to go on. New York was right next to the Atlantic Ocean; this damp, rotting smell mixed with dirt and wood was far too common.
The docks, the riverbanks, the sewers... it was everywhere.
"No, there's also the smell of rust. Where would there be wood, scrap metal, and dirt all at the same time?"
The private detective quickly scrambled up from the floor, hurried back to his apartment, and spread a massive map of New York out on the ground.
He searched inch by inch, his fingertip moving slowly across the map, until it finally stopped at a location on the Lower East Side of Manhattan:
"An abandoned shipyard?"
"Robin, that was a basic demonstration of 'unintentionally revealing one's whereabouts and origins.'"
On the exterior wall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, standing atop the head of a gargoyle statue, Batman said to Venom Robin, "To someone smart enough, this is full of holes. For instance, my timing—appearing exactly when he was about to give up and at his most relaxed—is too coincidental. Or the fact that the scent I left behind after disappearing was far too obvious..."
"But for that private detective, he will only come to the conclusion that 'Batman operates out of an abandoned shipyard.'"
Venom Robin scratched his head, but this ungraceful gesture was quickly stopped by Batman. He had no choice but to crouch at Batman's feet and ask in confusion:
"I understood it this time, but Old Bat, how did you know someone would show up here tonight? There's absolutely no surveillance set up on Ponce Bank in the Batcave."
"This comes down to the fact that every step of your actions requires a plan, Robin," Batman said. "I already knew someone would appear here tonight when I took you on that operation three days ago."
"Why not last night?"
"The police needed to lock down the scene, the bank needed to repair the skylight, and the precinct would hire a private detective based on my first appearance that night. Add to that the private detective's arrival, and the timeline is completely predictable," Batman explained.
"Wait, don't tell me you even know the name of that private detective?" Venom Robin wanted to scratch his head again, but was stopped by Batman once more.
"I do," Batman said. "Subconscious habits like scratching your head are forbidden, Robin. It lowers your intimidation factor."
The little girl, Lunella, sat in the car as Ben Grimm drove through the streets of Manhattan.
Ben Grimm was a pilot; he wasn't proficient in specific scientific experiments. For a genius like Reed Richards, having him stay in the lab would only cause trouble.
During periods with no flight missions, he was the most idle among the core members of the Baxter Building. Right now, he even had the free time to accompany little Lunella as she wandered around Manhattan.
In truth, they weren't just wandering. Little Lunella held a palm-sized device with several antennas sticking out of it and a small radar display on the front.
This was a gadget Lunella had built to track down Batman. Ben Grimm was actually quite interested in it, though he didn't really believe this little device could find him.
Beep, beep. Beep, beep.
The device had been beeping constantly since they left the Baxter Building, and the radar showed that Batman was under the Brooklyn Bridge.
"Lunella, is your little gadget showing that Batman hasn't moved from that spot this whole time?" Ben Grimm glanced at the little girl sitting in the passenger seat.
Tap, tap.
Lunella patted the device twice and shook her head in confusion:
"He hasn't."
"So it's not actually a device for tracking Batman, right? After all, none of us have ever come into contact with him," Ben Grimm said. "Unless I jerk the steering wheel right now and plow into those pedestrians; maybe then Batman would drop out of the sky."
Lunella let out a frustrated sigh:
"You're right, Uncle Ben."
"Actually, I don't even know what this device is tracking."
The Brooklyn Bridge wasn't far from Manhattan; or rather, it was situated right between Manhattan and Brooklyn. Ben Grimm drove the car at a leisurely pace and arrived in no time.
Beep, beep. Beep, beep.
The device in Lunella's hands kept beeping incessantly, the radar indicating they were getting closer and closer to Batman.
Three minutes later, Ben Grimm and little Lunella arrived at a spot on the riverbank beneath the Brooklyn Bridge.
"Don't tell me Batman is buried here." Ben Grimm looked at the device in Lunella's hands, then raised his foot and gave the ground a hard stomp. Seeing Lunella nod, he let out a groan. "Oh, come on?"
Since he had already chosen to take the kid out for a spin, Ben Grimm figured he might as well lean into it. With nothing better to do, he casually picked up a flat rock from the ground and started digging into the earth.
Beep, beep. Beep, beep!
The device beeped more and more frantically until finally, just as Ben Grimm unearthed an object resembling a steering wheel, the beeps merged into one continuous tone.
Ben Grimm held the "steering wheel" in his hand, looking at Lunella with a deadpan expression:
"Please tell me this thing's name is Batman."
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