Marvel’s Shadowed Knight

Rubbing his temples, Wayne was having a hard time processing all of this.

Two hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough for him to recover.

"So, you're the same way?"

After taking a sip of water, Wayne finally asked the voice in his head—Thomas.

"I can't do it. This kind of sleep just doesn't work for me. If I'm going to sleep, I need a proper rest." Thomas made it clear that he wasn't capable of that.

The differences between Thomas and Bruce were quite significant.

Especially when it came to Wayne Enterprises—those two couldn't be more different.

At the very least, Bruce still made time to handle some of the company's affairs. Thomas, on the other hand, had long since abandoned any responsibility for Wayne Enterprises.

The most important person in Thomas' life had already fallen in that alleyway.

And because he relied heavily on firearms to solve problems, his hand-to-hand combat skills were significantly weaker compared to Bruce's.

Naturally, his physical condition couldn't compare to Bruce's either.

"That being said, I suggest you use this time to properly train yourself. I don't know how Bruce did it, but looking at your current physical condition…"

"If you don't control your diet and maintain a strict training regimen, there's no way you'll be able to keep your body in peak condition."

Though Thomas wasn't an expert in this field, even he could tell that Wayne needed to take care of his physique.

"Any recommendations for workouts and diet plans?" Wayne asked out of boredom, casually chatting with Thomas.

Even though the old man had a Punisher-like approach when it came to criminals, at least Wayne could get some insight on how to maintain his physical fitness.

He had no intention of ending up like Peter B. Parker, struggling with a dad bod in his midlife crisis.

"Jogging, twenty-mile (32 km) endurance runs, yoga. At night, you'll need to train your combat techniques." Thomas rattled off a list of exercises.

Then, as he took a moment to look around at their surroundings, he added—

"You're also going to need a large training facility. And a proper base."

"Got it." Wayne sighed.

It wasn't like he didn't want a top-tier training ground to push himself to the limit.

If he wanted to secure a place that was suitable for training and could serve as his own personal Batcave, he'd probably have to spend half a month running around the criminal underworld to make it happen.

Even then, he wasn't sure he'd have enough funds to pull it off.

For now, though, he just had to wait for Kingpin to slip up. Once that happened, he could use his skills to divert all of Fisk's assets into his own hands.

The simplest, cleanest, and least harmful way to go about it.

As for what would happen to Kingpin? Wayne didn't care.

Besides, once this was all over, that guy would be gift-wrapped and delivered straight to the police by that little Spider.

Wayne just had to get everything in order before the authorities got involved.

"As for the diet plan… we'll talk about that once you have the money," Thomas remarked.

There was no point in discussing meal plans if Wayne couldn't even afford the right ingredients.

"Did you have to be that blunt?"

Wayne had already changed into workout gear, preparing to head out for a run.

At the moment, it was the most practical exercise he could do.

A pitch-black night.

Not many people would expect someone to be out jogging at this hour.

Even though New York had seen a decline in petty crime thanks to the rise of masked heroes, the criminals that remained weren't just low-level thugs wielding pistols.

If you were still active in New York's underworld now, you had to have something that set you apart.

Otherwise, no one would take you seriously as a supervillain.

Stepping outside, Wayne stretched his limbs, warming up his body to get into the best possible condition.

He was curious to see what kind of monsters lurked in the city at night.

With Spider-Man dead, and with him making moves in Hell's Kitchen, most supercriminals weren't keen on working the night shift anymore.

After all, there was no way to lure the little spider out now.

Honestly, Spider-Man really was the golden child of the city.

Whether it was the heroes or the villains—everyone had a soft spot for him.

It was just like how outsiders trying to meet Batman had to first go through his fan club.

If they were accepted, then—maybe—maybe they'd get a chance to meet the Bat.

But more often than not, negotiations never worked out in their favor.

Though Wayne wasn't making much noise while jogging, he had still managed to catch the attention of a certain spider.

"Late-Night Running?"

Watching Wayne jog off into the night, Shadow Spider furrowed his brows.

Ever since Tombstone had withdrawn his spies from the area, Shadow Spider had been observing everything from the outside.

His mission was to protect the family of the fallen Spider-Man.

Naturally, Wayne's every move was under his watchful eye.

Thanks to his stark black-and-white aesthetic, he was nearly invisible in the darkness. Even if he stood out in the open, few would notice his presence.

However, if someone did manage to spot him, chances were they'd be scared half to death.

A figure completely devoid of color? That was nightmare fuel.

With a flick of his wrist, Shadow Spider fired a web in the direction Wayne was heading. He needed to take a closer look at this guy.

If he was a criminal, then Shadow Spider would be doing the world a favor by taking him out.

If he was innocent, then he'd at least keep him from running into trouble.

Even though Shadow Spider was still adjusting to how vastly different modern-day New York was from 1933, the fact that Spider-Man died in this city spoke volumes.

Decades had passed, yet instead of crime rates improving, they had only gotten worse.

Anyone wandering the streets this late at night? Not exactly a promising sign.

Yet, in just this short amount of time, Shadow Spider realized he had already followed Wayne for several miles.

At that speed?

No way was this guy a normal human.

Shadow Spider was now even more convinced that Wayne was up to no good.

…He just didn't have any solid proof yet.

Meanwhile, Wayne was breathing steadily, thoroughly enjoying his run.

At the same time, he remained aware of the tail following him.

As a detective, Shadow Spider's stealth skills were top-notch. Combined with his monochromatic color scheme, he was practically invisible.

Unfortunately for him, Wayne wasn't exactly playing fair.

Not to mention—he had the literal Thomas Wayne in his head.

Wayne didn't realize Shadow Spider had specifically chosen to follow him. He simply assumed the guy was keeping an eye on anything suspicious in the area.

So, he continued his run without a care.

But the next moment—

Just as Shadow Spider fired a web to swing ahead of Wayne, his black-and-white figure suddenly flickered.

For a split second, his body seemed to split into multiple versions of himself.

A sharp, searing pain shot through him.

He lost control.

And then—

"THUD!"

The impact was impossible to ignore.

Even if Wayne wanted to pretend he hadn't heard it, there was no way.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Wayne turned back, calling out into the dark alley.

"Do you need help?"

Cautiously, Wayne stepped forward.

It wasn't until he stood directly in front of Shadow Spider that the masked figure finally shook off the pain and recovered.

"I'm fine. No problem at all."

With a swift kip-up, Shadow Spider sprang back to his feet, dusting off his suit. He even gave his hat a confident tilt, as if nothing had happened.

"You... you're Spider-Man?! But they said you were dead!" Wayne's face was a picture of shock, with just a hint of fear.

"And that outfit...?"

As he spoke, he subtly stepped backward, putting some distance between them.

Clearly, he was unsettled by encountering someone who might not even be human.

Wayne's performance at that moment?

Oscar-worthy.

(End of Chapter)

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