Chapter 87: Following the Thread
Ravencroft Institute sat in a forgotten corner far from downtown New York, its access roads long since swallowed by overgrown weeds. Unless someone knew exactly where to look, they'd never find this Victorian Gothic structure that resembled an abandoned haunted mansion—though it now served as a psychiatric facility.
After a three-hour drive, ignoring the cacophony of crows cawing and circling overhead, Batman stood before the asylum's front gates wearing a thin trench coat. Like Arkham Asylum back in Gotham, Ravencroft maintained minimal internet connectivity with the outside world. His usual hacking methods would be practically useless here. He'd have to handle this investigation in person.
"Stop right there. No unauthorized entry."
Before Batman could linger too long at the entrance, a squad of armed guards hustled over, their boots crunching on gravel. Through the iron gate, they issued their warning without courtesy.
"I'm here to visit Mr. Norman Osborn," Batman said smoothly. "My name is Valentine. I'm a board member of Oscorp."
As he spoke, Batman discreetly extended one hand, passing a small stack of bills through the bars.
The guard swallowed hard, clearly moved by Benjamin Franklin's unique charm printed on those hundred-dollar bills. He accepted the money with practiced efficiency, dividing it among his companions with remarkable speed before turning back to Batman.
"Wait here. I'll check."
Batman gave a slight nod, watching one guard step aside with a radio. A minute later, the man returned.
"Sorry, Mr. Valentine. The Norman Osborn you're looking for was secretly transferred yesterday." The guard touched his pocket nervously, as if afraid Batman might demand his generous donation back.
But Batman did no such thing. Instead, with a flick of his wrist like a magician's flourish, he produced another stack of bills.
"Could I speak with the security supervisor responsible for his ward? Or perhaps his attending physician?"
"Absolutely!" the guard answered without hesitation.
Money and the Oscorp name proved to be highly efficient credentials. Within minutes, Batman met the somewhat nervous psychiatrist who'd been treating Norman Osborn—Dr. Tannis Neves.
"Mr. Valentine, please, this way."
Dr. Neves was a plain-looking woman in a white coat, glasses perched on her nose, dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail. New York probably had hundreds of female doctors with identical appearances. Batman paid her little particular attention, instead cutting straight to business once they'd entered Ravencroft's interior.
"Dr. Neves, I need to see Norman Osborn's transfer documentation."
Batman's voice carried a magnetic quality. Peter's youthful face, matured somewhat by several days of stubble, combined with Batman's warm but penetrating gaze, made the female doctor even more nervous.
"No problem, but may I ask what this is about?"
"Oscorp needs to provide necessary legal support for Mr. Osborn, but he was transferred without our knowledge. I need to understand what happened." Batman kept his tone reasonable, concerned rather than threatening.
"I see. Just a moment." Dr. Neves nodded quickly, leading Batman to her office where she retrieved a thick folder from a desk drawer.
Batman accepted the documents, his frown deepening with each page.
The paperwork appeared flawless—which was precisely the problem.
From receiving orders through approval, execution, and finally Norman Osborn's transfer, every procedure was meticulously documented. Complete court transfer orders, signed receipts from federal marshals—everything seemed airtight.
But in any bureaucratic system, this kind of speed was itself the biggest red flag. Some organization with unimaginable authority had orchestrated this operation.
Batman didn't pressure the doctor. None of this was her fault.
"Miss Neves, could you take me to Norman Osborn's isolation ward?"
"I can, but I can't guarantee you'll find anything useful." Dr. Neves sounded apologetic.
Batman said nothing, waiting as she secured the documents before leading him directly to the ward.
The room stood empty and spotless, as if every clue had been erased.
But Batman showed no disappointment. Instead, his nostrils flared slightly as he sorted through dozens of overlapping scents, isolating what he needed.
"Gun oil in the air. Different from what the guards use on their weapons."
Peter Parker's enhanced senses joined Batman's investigation. After carefully analyzing the room's odors, he made his assessment, then began circling Dr. Neves.
The doctor apparently hadn't encountered many normal people from outside the asylum lately. Faced with Batman's exceptional appearance and presence as he moved around her, her unremarkable face flushed crimson.
But Batman's eyes weren't watching the doctor. He shifted his position, examining the floor from different angles.
Though the surface had been cleaned, from certain perspectives he could see faint, distinctive boot tread impressions pressed into the tile.
Ordinary eyes would miss them completely, but Peter's vision captured every detail.
The depth and spacing of the treads indicated someone of considerable weight, moving with steady, disciplined steps—the result of extensive military training. Definitely not regular federal marshals, and nothing like Ravencroft's easily bribed guards.
'Only four people. Doesn't look like forced extraction. Norman and whoever came for him likely negotiated something. He went willingly.'
'Norman's footprints show no signs of struggle whatsoever.'
Batman compiled all the collected information, committing every clue to memory before turning to the doctor.
"One last thing. Could you take me to the security office?"
"Of—of course!"
Dr. Neves seemed completely under Batman's influence. She avoided his gaze, head down as she agreed.
Batman hadn't requested the security footage first because he suspected it had already been tampered with.
When they reached the security office minutes later, his suspicions proved correct.
The recordings hadn't been deleted—the cameras had simply been obscured, and even the audio was nearly inaudible.
"Miss Neves, if you don't mind my asking—are you married?"
Batman looked at the doctor, posing a question that made her blush and avoid his eyes entirely.
"I'm... not yet—" she answered softly, head bowed.
The instant she looked down, a flash drive slid from Batman's trench coat sleeve and into the computer's USB port.
The pre-loaded program activated silently the moment it connected, rapidly copying all surveillance recordings.
Two minutes later, as the screen flashed a completion message, Batman discreetly removed the drive and informed Dr. Neves he needed to leave.
"Mr. Valentine, this is my number—"
As Batman prepared to exit the Gothic asylum, the doctor quickly pulled paper and pen from her pocket, scribbling down her phone number and pressing it into his hand.
Batman accepted the note with a smile, tucked it into his pocket, and drove away.
He needed to get to the City Hall subway station. There, using the equipment he'd stashed, he could analyze the surveillance footage's extremely faint audio and identify that gun oil brand he'd detected in Norman's ward. Those details would reveal exactly who had transferred Norman Osborn—and why.