Batman was not some aloof, high-and-mighty hero.
On the contrary, much like Spider-Man, he was willing to do everything in his power to help those in need, whether they were beggars or the homeless. However, Batman didn't specifically roam the streets to arrest thieves stealing bicycles or sandwiches. Instead, he utilized his intellect and financial resources to resolve these issues at their root whenever possible, even though the difficulty of doing so was immense.
One of the reasons Batman had pushed Norman Osborn to strive for the governorship of New York—and perhaps even the presidency—was his hope of improving the plight of those at the bottom of society.
Currently, Batman sat in an ordinary diner, watching the homeless man across from him wolf down food. He frowned slightly.
"You've had a higher education. You should understand the consequences of suddenly ingesting a large amount of food on an empty stomach."
The homeless man tilted his head back, gulped down a large swig of juice, and said with a bitter smile, "Sir, I've been living on the streets for so long. Why should I care how healthy my body is?"
"Even if you aren't the person I'm looking for, I will arrange a job and housing for you, and give you two weeks' pay in advance so you don't have to wander anymore," Batman said.
"Who are you looking for?" the homeless man asked, continuing to stuff his face.
He didn't believe for a second that a wealthy man—whose temperament and attire clearly marked him as someone extraordinary—was looking for someone like him.
"I'm looking for Dane Garrett Whitman," Batman said, watching the man's disheveled face.
The man was eating so fast that a strand of his matted, filthy beard got caught in his mouth, but he didn't seem to care. However, the moment Batman uttered the name "Dane Garrett Whitman," he suddenly froze.
"No, I'm not him," the man stammered, shaking his head in denial, even looking as if he were about to bolt. "I don't know any Dane."
Batman nodded, having already reached a verdict in his mind.
"Nathan Garrett Whitman was your uncle, wasn't he?"
Garrett's full name was Nathan Garrett Whitman, a fact he had never exposed in any public records. But Batman had considered that since Garrett was a member of the Whitman family and held the Ebony Blade passed down from their ancestors, his surname should be Whitman rather than Garrett.
As expected, Batman was right. Once the homeless man heard Batman speak Nathan's full name, he realized he couldn't deflect any longer. He shrank back into his seat with a look of trepidation and whispered, "That's right."
This sentence was a tacit admission that he was indeed the man Batman was looking for: Dane Garrett Whitman.
"Sir, I've been a vagrant for six years. Even if my uncle Garrett became a criminal, it shouldn't have anything to do with me," Dane Whitman said.
"He's dead," Batman replied.
Dane Whitman froze again. His beard trembled a few times, and then he silently reached for the food on the table, stuffing it into his mouth.
Batman did not rush him. He waited until Dane had swallowed everything before speaking again.
"Before he died, he entrusted me to find you and hand over the family's heirloom, the Ebony Blade."
"The Ebony Blade?" Dane Whitman wiped the grease from his mouth. "I thought that was just a legend passed down in the family."
"Evidently, it isn't a legend," Batman said.
"Who are you?" Dane asked.
"I was a friend of his," Batman said. "Peter Parker."
With Nathan Garrett dead, there was no way for Dane to see through Batman's claim of being Peter Parker. Aside from Tony and Batman, no one knew about the final instructions regarding the Ebony Blade. Furthermore, Batman had no intention of revealing his true vigilante identity to Dane Whitman.
"Is that so? Mr. Parker..." Dane Whitman didn't seem overly immersed in the grief of his uncle's death; perhaps six years of homelessness had numbed him. "When can I start working?"
Compared to the Ebony Blade, the first thing on Dane's mind after a full meal was escaping his life on the streets, not family legends.
"You need to answer a few questions first, Dane," Batman said. "First: how long have you been in New York?"
Dane Whitman answered without hesitation, "Six years. I've been wandering the streets of New York the whole time."
Batman nodded. "Second question: why did you appear outside the charity auction?"
Dane gave the young billionaire across from him a strange look. "Mr. Parker, I'm a homeless man. I go wherever the rich people are, because that's where the food is."
Batman stared into Dane's eyes without speaking. He could tell that Dane's presence there hadn't been an accident.
Dane couldn't hold out long under Batman's piercing gaze. He soon raised his hands in surrender and honestly revealed his purpose.
"A while ago, the news said the Black Knight, Garrett, fought Iron Man in New York. After that, I lost all information on him... I wanted to see if I could meet Tony Stark."
"Though, it seems there's no need for that now."
Batman reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out some cash.
"Go to the abandoned shipyard in the Downtown district tomorrow afternoon. Someone will meet you there."
"Can I ask who it is beforehand?" Dane asked, suddenly wary. "You know, Mr. Parker, ever since Oscorp started using the homeless for human experiments..."
Dane didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.
"Someone like you," Batman said.
After arranging a clean hotel for Dane and leaving him enough money to buy a fresh set of clothes, night finally fell.
On the outskirts of the Adirondack Mountains, Batman stood clad in his Arkham suit, flanked by Professor Lizard and Devil Dinosaur. They were waiting for someone.
Fortunately, the person they were waiting for was not late. A black dot came hopping toward them from the direction of New York, its silhouette quickly becoming clear in the night.
It was the young girl, Lunella. Unlike the previous times Batman had seen her, she was now sporting various gadgets on her hands, feet, and back, though she still wore her usual combination of overalls, a T-shirt, and a denim jacket.
For instance, she wore shoes that seemed to have incredible elasticity and gadgets on her hands that looked like spring-loaded prank fists. The device on her back looked less like a backpack and more like a jetpack.
She had hopped all the way from New York to the Adirondacks relying on these inventions, which allowed her to cover dozens of meters with every step. Batman had sent her the specific coordinates, so there was no risk of her getting lost.
However, when she got close enough, she seemed to freeze. She stood in place, fidgeting, not daring to come any closer.
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