Chapter 262: Green Arrow?
To Hawkeye, this so-called Batman was simply another mysterious agent using animal codenames like himself—very likely connected to Black Widow's disappearance.
During these New York days, Hawkeye had collected mostly Batman-related rumors. Conversely, zero information about Natasha—as though she'd evaporated completely.
This made Hawkeye suspect whether Batman might be Hydra—whether Black Widow's disappearance connected to him.
But these questions couldn't be answered through thinking alone. Listening to Eddie Brock describe his experiences as detailed as possible, Hawkeye's mental Batman image grew increasingly clear.
A human carrying various non-lethal explosives, capable of firing pitch-black threads, extremely calm when fighting—someone who'd easily defeated Eddie Brock when possessed by both Venom and Anti-Venom.
Hawkeye wouldn't foolishly follow popular opinion, believing like most New Yorkers that Batman was some monster.
Based on Eddie's description, Hawkeye was fifty-percent certain Batman was Hydra.
"...After losing Anti-Venom, I lost everything. Could only become a photographer sneaking photos of cheating spouses again."
Eddie Brock finished recounting his experiences, asking Hawkeye:
"You said you could help me find Batman. How do you plan doing it?"
"Can't tell you." Hawkeye Clint Barton displayed mysterious smile. "You just need sitting back and enjoying results."
According to Hawkeye's thinking, at most after capturing Batman himself, he'd let Eddie beat him up venting frustration—as payment for Eddie's intelligence.
"Heh, I knew it." Eddie Brock showed zero surprise. "Recently, too many people like you have asked me endless questions."
"Oh?" Hawkeye remained impassive. "Did they find you afterward?"
"No. Not a single one." Eddie Brock swept the table's fast food clean.
"Do you know who they were?" Hawkeye asked again.
Eddie Brock leaned back against his chair, observing Hawkeye's extremely-low baseball cap brim:
"Who else could they be? Though they—like you—acted mysteriously, dressed tightly, I immediately recognized them as Daily Bugle, Globe, New York Ledger... various newspaper and TV station reporters."
"But you're not a reporter, right?"
"Of course not." Hawkeye smiled. "I work for New York Police Department."
Under Eddie Brock's half-believing gaze, Hawkeye extracted one credential from inside his jacket, rapidly flashing it before Eddie's eyes before quickly pocketing it.
"Remember keeping it secret for me." Hawkeye said.
Eddie Brock's eyes widened. He no longer leaned back but leaned forward, hands pressing the table—practically wanting to extend his head across:
"I remember one week ago, New York Police formally issued arrest warrants for Batman regarding Rikers matters..."
"You're here for this, right, Officer?"
Hawkeye observed Eddie Brock—neither denying nor confirming.
---
Late night.
Hawkeye wore purple sleeveless combat suit, quiver on his back, gripping longbow while heading straight toward the Metropolitan Museum.
"This is the most recent Batman-related case. One failed theft."
"I suspect Batman is Hydra. But this guy continuously fights criminals, prevents crimes—his methods completely differ from Hydra."
"Perhaps the museum can reveal some clues."
Hawkeye's lips pressed tight. His agile figure passed through shadows.
Late-night museum's artificial lighting prevented absolute darkness. Occasionally patrolling guards passed through. Cameras aimed at every corner.
Though days ago those thieves' theft failed, though nothing was stolen from the museum—the Metropolitan Museum had still increased security measures.
Especially since this failed theft case involved Batman—currently being arrested by New York Police—making the Metropolitan Museum even more heavily guarded.
But for Hawkeye, whether lighting, cameras, or patrolling guards—
These security measures didn't significantly trouble him. He precisely avoided all security systems, infiltrating stealthily all the way to Roman galleries.
"Medieval knight. British knight tomb inscription rubbing."
Hawkeye didn't expend excessive effort finding that museum exhibit attracting black-clad thieves and Batman.
Hawkeye knew he lacked understanding of historical artifacts. He simply memorized the stone fragment's patterns, then began searching surrounding environments for Batman activity traces.
The Metropolitan Museum cleaned various traces daily. But for Hawkeye, there always existed traces normal people couldn't notice—traces remaining even after cleaning.
He'd use those traces more deeply determining what kind of person Batman was.
One minute. Two minutes.
Hawkeye couldn't restrain frowning. Beyond some traces consistent with rumors—certain pitch-black threads Batman had fired—nothing else existed.
Moreover, those traces were left when Batman hung five black-clad thieves. Beyond "five people hung here," Hawkeye temporarily couldn't read more effective content.
Just as he planned departing the museum without disturbing anyone, Hawkeye's movements suddenly froze.
His body stiffened in position. His mind rapidly recalled environmental details just observed, then headed straight somewhere.
Reaching out to feel—Hawkeye's expression immediately darkened.
He'd touched one miniature sensor.
Then without slightest hesitation, Hawkeye's body rapidly rolled in position, back against one display pedestal, right hand exploring backward toward his quiver at extreme speed.
Roll, draw bow, nock arrow, aim, shoot!
WHOOSH! The arrow produced one weak shriek through air.
Five movements—Hawkeye didn't even use half a second.
To ordinary people, Hawkeye had merely rolled once on ground before an arrow shot out.
With his archery skills, even if opponents held guns, Hawkeye possessed complete confidence resolving opponents first.
But currently that lightning-fast arrow didn't hit targets—instead firmly embedding into museum walls, tail feathers still trembling through air.
WHOOSH!
One arrow shot. Hawkeye again drew and nocked at extreme speed. But this time only aiming at museum darkness without shooting.
He didn't speak. Sufficiently sharp vision let him see clearly the figure lurking in darkness—the figure with sharp pointed ears atop its head.
"Oliver?" The shadow's voice remained low. But Hawkeye heard slight probing within. "Green Arrow?"
Hawkeye's brow furrowed slightly. Tightly gripping bowstring without releasing, he spoke quietly:
"I'm not Oliver. Not any Green Arrow either."