Chapter 181: The Worry That Left Batman Helpless
Even Batman couldn't explain why he'd specifically purchased an obviously expensive sports car to visit Aunt May.
Perhaps because he was leaving for New Mexico soon—would be gone for some time unable to see her—Batman wanted this gesture to tell May not to worry.
Perhaps because Batman had crossed into Peter Parker's body, claiming May's love, he wanted to show her his career achievements to compensate for that debt.
Perhaps because in Gotham Batman had grown accustomed to using the playboy persona to disguise his other identity—and beyond money, he had nothing else to offer.
Driving the Audi R8 convertible, New York's cool September breeze blew across Batman's face.
The car's speed decreased steadily. Not from traffic, but Batman subconsciously controlling velocity.
He simultaneously wanted to see May immediately while fearing the encounter for reasons he couldn't articulate. The closer to Forest Hills, the stronger these conflicting emotions grew.
Finally Batman simply parked at Forest Hills' edge, observing this neighborhood that had changed dramatically since his first visit.
Forest Hills had once been an utterly ordinary Queens middle-class residential area. Residents were mainly teachers, civil servants, small business owners—people with stable occupations.
Compared to high-end neighborhoods, it lacked lush tree-lined greenery, private security systems, even recreational facilities.
But now everything had changed.
Previously, Batman had wanted to move May to an upscale town far from New York, but May refused—unwilling to abandon memories this place held.
Batman had secretly operated through trusts and foundations, transforming this modest Forest Hills neighborhood. Now it possessed a dedicated library, senior recreation facilities, a Batman-controlled supermarket and high-end private clinic, plus evergreen landscaping and 24-hour security systems.
Batman hadn't even told May about owning Parker Industries yet. Worried the elderly woman couldn't accept direct financial support, he'd leveraged the supermarket instead.
Located within Forest Hills itself, the supermarket ran constant promotions under the guise of grand opening celebrations—dramatically reducing May's living expenses.
The old woman's life no longer struggled. She didn't need to worry about rent or daily living costs.
Naturally, May's residence at 20 Ingram Street had long ago been secretly purchased by Batman. The entire Forest Hills neighborhood belonged to Batman's private assets.
Batman had even secretly transferred several deposits into May's bank account—though apparently May hadn't checked her balance recently.
Batman sat in the car for a long while. Passing pedestrians occasionally gave the vehicle admiring glances.
Batman ignored others' thoughts. He was simply trying to gather determination.
Finally, at a certain moment, Batman's eyes regained their resolute focus. He pressed the accelerator, entering the neighborhood and heading toward residence number 20.
DING DONG.
Batman rang the doorbell as he had previous visits. But this time May didn't answer for quite a while.
Batman's chest tightened. He immediately reached into his suit jacket's inner pocket, pressing a button:
"Barbara, access Forest Hills security system. Locate May Parker's position."
"She's at the Forest Hills real estate office, Bruce." Barbara responded quickly.
Batman's confusion deepened. Why would May visit the neighborhood real estate office?
Even with Batman's upgrades, the neighborhood wasn't very large. Batman left the car at May's door, walking rapidly toward the real estate office.
When he arrived, he saw May with her cane hooked over her arm, holding a paper as she emerged.
She spotted Batman immediately: "Peter! My dear boy!"
Batman quickened his pace, reaching May and letting her embrace him solidly.
"May, what are you doing here?"
After necessary greetings and explaining his mid-week return, Batman asked.
"Peter, you don't know." May smiled, adjusting her headscarf with wrinkled hands. "I heard the landlord sold our house. I wanted to see if the new landlord left contact information with the office."
"Hopefully the new landlord will keep renting to this old lady without raising the rent."
Batman helped May properly arrange her headscarf, taking her hand and walking toward residence 20—or more precisely, 20 Ingram Street, Forest Hills neighborhood.
Batman simultaneously reassured her: "He will."
"Of course!" May's eyes couldn't hide disappointment, but she forced a smile. "My luck's been pretty good lately. I won first prize at the new neighborhood supermarket—a brand new refrigerator!"
Batman praised May's good fortune without hesitation, though he'd orchestrated that result himself.
"But..." May didn't continue.
She was elderly now. No one would willingly rent to such an old woman. The new landlord would likely be the same.
May had hidden something from Batman earlier. She wasn't just seeking the new landlord's contact information—she'd been inquiring where nearby cheap rentals existed. Could be modest accommodations, but must remain close to Forest Hills.
While speaking, they'd returned to residence 20's entrance.
May stared at the Audi R8 parked before their door with surprise:
"Who parked their car at our door? Peter, check if there's a phone number inside."
Batman thought May didn't permit the parking, but immediately heard her continue:
"Look, some bad kids already threw paper balls inside. We need to get cloth covering the convertible top."
Seeing the girls' phone numbers May had mistaken for trash, Batman didn't explain. He simply opened the door, collecting all the paper balls into his pocket.
"Peter, we can't touch other people's property."
May started forward to stop Batman, but he'd already finished cleaning and made an inviting gesture:
"May, come sit."
"Peter, compared to this, I'd rather ride in Ben's old truck." May's face showed serious disapproval. She wouldn't permit her nephew to rudely open someone else's car and sit inside.
"May, this is my car." Batman didn't want May misunderstanding. He produced the key fob and pressed it. The R8 responded with a chirp. "See?"
Batman expected May to feel proud—to celebrate that this person occupying Peter Parker's body had built his own business...
But May stepped backward half a pace, her voice tight: "Your car? Peter... where did you get a car like this?"
Her voice dropped low, carrying tension—fearing neighbors might overhear, though that hardly mattered:
"You didn't do anything dangerous, did you? Didn't promise anyone anything?"
May looked at Batman, then at the sleek sports car gleaming brilliantly in sunlight. Her eyes held no joy whatsoever—only deepening worry.
From Peter Parker's disappearance to this lonely but equally needing-protection soul's appearance—how much time had passed?
What kind of dangerous yet lucrative work would let him purchase this car in barely two months?