At the same time, three blocks away, someone slammed through the door of a refrigerated warehouse from inside. A gang enforcer flew backward, his back crashing hard into a rolling shutter before he slid down the metal.
Cries of pain filled the warehouse.
More than a dozen gang members lay on the floor. Some clutched their wrists and screamed, some were strapped to heating pipes, and others hung upside down beside meat hooks, their faces whiter with fear than frozen chicken breasts.
A bunch of pitiful-looking bystanders huddled in a corner, too. Batman had provisionally classified them as victims.
Even though these "victims" were neither perfect nor innocent.
The description here highlighted just how gently Spider-Man had handled people.
Batman stood in the center of the room, his cape draped around his entire muscular body. He looked so dark it was as if the warehouse lights had deliberately avoided him.
Several blue insulated boxes were stacked in a corner, still bearing traces of the Wayne Foundation logo. Their labels had been torn off as well.
Batman glanced down at the box numbers and confirmed that they matched the irregularities in the delivery chain records.
Then he strapped the last struggling enforcer to a pillar.
City traffic surveillance, police channels, and drone feeds flickered simultaneously across his tactical lenses.
Problem location one, resolved.
Hmm... next, I should notify Gordon to come pick up these victims.
Just as Batman was about to summon the Batmobile and head to the next location to deal with the people there, he spotted a strange Bat-Signal in the nearby sky outside the window.
That was not Gordon's location. It could not be a dispatch from the police station.
Nor was it a signal point he had set up.
More importantly, Batman knew Spider-Man was there.
Looking