Even Batman himself couldn't quite explain why he'd deliberately chosen to drive an obviously expensive sports car to see May.
Maybe it was because he was about to head to New Mexico and wouldn't be able to visit her for a while; he wanted to reassure Aunt May that there was no need to worry about him…
Maybe it was because he had crossed over into Peter Parker's body and taken Aunt May's love for Peter; he wanted to show her his current career success as a way to make up for the guilt he felt.
Maybe it was because, back in Gotham, he was used to hiding behind the playboy persona of Bruce Wayne; aside from money, he had nothing else he could offer.
Or maybe…
The cool September breeze in New York brushed gently across Batman's face as he drove the open-top Audi R8.
His speed gradually slowed; not because of traffic, but because he was subconsciously easing off the accelerator.
He wanted to see Aunt May right away, yet at the same time he dreaded seeing her because of emotions he couldn't name or understand. The closer he got to the Forest Hills neighborhood, the stronger that feeling became.
In the end, Batman simply pulled over at the edge of Forest Hills and gazed at a community that now looked utterly different from the first time he had come here.
Back then, Forest Hills had been nothing more than an ordinary middle-class residential area in Queens, New York; its residents mostly teachers, civil servants, small business owners; people with stable jobs.
Compared to upscale neighborhoods, it had neither lush, tree-lined streets nor dedicated security systems, and certainly no recreational facilities to speak of.
But now everything had changed.
Earlier, Batman had wanted to move Aunt May to a high-end town far away from New York, but May had been unwilling to leave because of all the memories tied to this place.
So, working quietly through trusts and foundations, Batman had transformed the once-simple Forest Hills into a community with its own dedicated library, a senior activity center, a supermarket secretly under Batman's control, a high-end private clinic, evergreen landscaping, and a 24-hour rapid-response security system.
He had never even mentioned to Aunt May that he now owned Parker Industries. He worried that directly handing over money would be too much for the old woman to accept, so instead he used the supermarket as a workaround.
The supermarket was right inside Forest Hills. Under the pretext of its grand opening, he arranged promotions and events nearly every day to drastically reduce Aunt May's daily expenses.
Thanks to that, her life was no longer financially strained; she no longer had to worry about rent or the cost of daily necessities.
…Of course, the house at Number 20 where Aunt May lived had long since been quietly purchased by Batman, along with the entire Forest Hills community; all of it was now part of his private assets.
He had even secretly transferred several large sums of money into Aunt May's bank account, though so far it seemed she hadn't checked her balance at the bank.
Batman sat in the car for a long time. Passers-by occasionally glanced at the eye-catching car and at him.
He paid no attention to what others might be thinking. He was simply trying to steel himself.
Finally, resolve returned to his eyes. He floored the accelerator and drove into the community, heading straight for Number 20.
Knock, knock, knock…
Just like the previous times, Batman knocked on the door, but this time Aunt May didn't answer right away.
A sudden tightness gripped his chest. He immediately slipped a hand inside his suit jacket and pressed a button.
"Barbara, access the Forest Hills security system. Locate May Parker."
"She's at the community real-estate office, Bruce," Barbara replied almost instantly.
Confusion rose in Batman's mind. Why would Aunt May be at the real-estate office?
Even after all the upgrades, the neighborhood wasn't large. Batman left the car parked in front of Aunt May's house and strode quickly toward the office.
When he arrived, he saw May just stepping out; her cane hung on her arm, a sheet of paper in her hand.
The moment she spotted him, her face lit up.
"Peter! My sweet boy!"
Batman quickened his pace and let her pull him into a solid, heartfelt hug.
"Aunt May, what are you doing here?"
After the necessary greetings and his explanation for showing up even though it wasn't the weekend, Batman asked the question.
"Peter, you wouldn't believe it." Aunt May smiled, tugging at her headscarf with wrinkled hands. "I heard the landlord sold the house we're living in. I came to see if the agency had any contact information for the new owner."
"I'm hoping the new landlord will let an old lady like me keep renting; and won't raise the rent."
Batman gently straightened the headscarf she hadn't quite arranged properly, took her hand, and began walking with her toward Number 20; more precisely, 20 Ingram Street, Forest Hills.
At the same time, he reassured her:
"He will."
"Of course he will!" A trace of sadness flickered in Aunt May's eyes, but she forced a cheerful smile. "I've actually been pretty lucky lately. I won the grand prize at the new supermarket in the community; a brand-new refrigerator!"
Batman lavished praise on her good fortune, even though he had personally rigged the drawing.
"But…" Aunt May let the word hang, then fell silent.
She was getting on in years. Who would want to rent a house to an old woman like her? The new landlord probably felt the same.
There were things she hadn't told Peter earlier. She wasn't just looking for the new owner's contact information; she had also been asking about cheap rentals nearby; places that could be a little run-down, as long as they weren't too far from Forest Hills.
As they talked, they reached the front of Number 20 again.
Aunt May stared in surprise at the Audi R8 parked by the door.
"Who parked their car in front of our house? Peter, go see if there's an owner's phone number on it."
Batman thought she was upset about the parking, but then Aunt May continued:
"Look, some bad kids already threw a bunch of paper balls inside. We should cover the open top with a cloth."
Seeing that the slips of paper with phone numbers that girls had tossed in earlier had been mistaken for trash thrown by delinquents, Batman said nothing to correct her. He simply opened the door, gathered all the paper balls, and slipped them into his pocket.
"Peter, we can't just touch someone else's things."
Aunt May started forward to stop him, but by then Batman had already finished cleaning and made a small "after you" gesture toward the passenger seat.
"Aunt May, why don't you sit for a minute?"
"Peter, I'd rather ride in Ben's old pickup any day." A rare stern expression crossed Aunt May's face. She would not allow her nephew to do something as rude as opening and sitting in a stranger's car.
"Aunt May, it's my car." Not wanting any misunderstanding, Batman took out the key fob and clicked it. The R8 chirped in response. "See?"
He had assumed Aunt May would be proud of him; proud that the man now living in Peter Parker's body had built a successful career…
But instead, Aunt May took half a step back, her voice tightening:
"Your car?"
"Peter… where on earth did you get a car like this?"
She kept her voice low, as if afraid the neighbors might overhear; though that hardly helped:
"You… you didn't do anything dangerous, did you? You didn't agree to do something for someone… did you?"
Aunt May looked from Batman to the sleek, gleaming sports car bathed in sunlight. There was not the slightest trace of joy in her eyes; only worry, growing deeper by the second.
Peter Parker had vanished, and this lonely soul who still needed her care had taken his place; how long ago had that been?
What kind of dangerous, high-paying job could he possibly be doing to afford something like this in less than two months?
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