IdeasGuy
patreon
See No Evil: Anything But The Truth (ch. 44)
🕑 Added 2021-05-26 15:04:09 +0000 UTCThings almost went to plan. About… ninety percent to plan. Maybe eight-five percent. The biggest deviation was Batman, because of course it would be. I didn't expect him to confront Cobblepot and me at the same time. That had been dangerous. Extremely so. The wrong word and the lie I had been crafting all this time would have fallen apart.
But, that was okay. Plans fell through. Things went sideways. By now, I've learned to anticipate that. I didn't have a trillion different contingencies for every possible scenario, but I've gotten pretty good at flipping an unexpected situation my way.
"It was a clean break. You're going to need the cast for about three weeks," Dr. Thompkins told me as I rolled my arm to inspect the cast.
"It already itches," I noted, feeling an itch beyond what my fingers could reach. Three weeks of this? It sounded like pure torture.
Dr. Thompkins let out a small huff, "Then you shouldn't have…" she checked my medical board. "Slipped on a skateboard, flew down a set of stairs, landed in a trashcan, rolled down the street, hit by a car, and got out but tripped on the curb since you were dizzy and broke your wrist." She looked at me and looked thoroughly unimpressed. "It's my first time treating a Loony Toons character, but it's still the same recovery time. I take it you don't want pain medication?"
I shook my head, "I'm good." My wrist still hurt, but now that it was set, it was a lot more manageable. It was more of a dull ache than anything.
Dr. Thompkins gave me a look, but she didn't press the topic. She already knew my reasons for not taking medication. "Then you're free to go, Saint Vergil."
I winced as I stood up from the medical bed. "You too, huh?" I muttered, earning a slight smirk from Dr. Thompkins.
"No. I just know you hate the nickname," Dr. Thompkins said, her smile growing a fraction when I scowled. “Suspected, at least. Now, I know,” she added and I realized I had been played. I really needed to be more careful about that. How could I expect to play people like Batman if I was getting played left and right by the people around me? “But you certainly have come a long way since you last were in my office.”
There was something lurking in her eyes, “Care to tell me how you really broke your wrist?” She questioned, and I should have figured that she had questions. I imagine that she patched up enough of Batman’s work to recognize the signs.There was a distinct lack of judgement in her tone. I couldn’t tell what she thought of her suspicions, or what she thought of me. But, I’m guessing how she would perceive me, and thus how she would work with me, depended on how I answered.
I didn't exactly know her well enough to pour my heart out to, but Dr. Thompkins was the doctor. The one figure in any poor neighborhood who was respected -- if I didn't have her seal of approval, others would wonder why I didn't. Lying was a possibility, but I was still uncertain how close she was to Batman. For all I knew, he's the one that prompted her to ask that question.
"I asked You-Know-Who to break it," I answered, making her eyes widen a fraction. Seems like I was wrong about him asking her. "Well, not exactly asked. More of gave the go-ahead. I just thought I was giving the go-ahead to dislocate something rather than breaking something."
Dr. Thompkins blinked, seeming to mull that over. "Do I want to know?" She questioned, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"Probably not," I admitted, satisfied with this conclusion. She would draw her own conclusions from the misinformation, but the impression I gave was that Batman and I were working together. And if Batman swung by to ask for details, he would learn that I thought we were playing on the same team. If he didn't, then that's fine too because Dr. Thompkins still wasn't condemning me because of her suspicions.
"Then forget that I asked," Dr. Thompkins said with a shake of her head before her phone beeped. Grabbing it, she checked the screen before a deep frown appeared on her face. Her eyes darted to me. "The press is outside. Waiting for you," she added, her tone suspicious, but there was no accusation forthcoming.
I nodded as I shrugged on my blazer and coat. Gotham was still in the middle of winter, but it seemed like the cold wasn't a good enough reason to keep the reporters from circling around me like vultures. Glancing at Dr. Thompkins, I offered a lopsided smirk. "You still don't want to know," I told her, get a small breath of laughter in response.
"I take it you aren't going to take the backdoor, then?" She guessed as I straightened out my tie.
"Nope. Would kinda defeat the point of leaking my location if I was just going to avoid them," I said, rolling the stiffness out of my shoulders for the conversation to come. This was a moment that I've anticipated since Lowtown formed. I didn't think it would be happening today of all days, but things never went to plan. This was just part of the deal -- you had to roll with the punches when things went wrong. Which is why I had to get rid of all my plans for my already short notice announcement, and settle for leaking info to the press.
Dr. Thompkins watched me for a moment, "Make it short. I don't want you clogging the entrance to my clinic. Doctor's orders," Dr. Thompkins instructed, earning a curt nod from me.
Stepping outside of the room, I heard a general clamor that came from a dozen people talking at the same time. I took in a deep breath, glanced over at a nurse who was looking at me, and offered a sharp smile. "Wish me luck," I requested, turning to walk to the main lobby. The sound of people talking got louder and louder as they competed to talk over each other, but there was a moment of silence when I pushed open the door to the lobby.
It was filled with reporters -- news stations, newspapers, tabloids, and more.
However, the moment I saw Superman standing in the lobby, flanked by a woman that could only be Lois Lane… time seemed to slow down. Adrenaline flooded my veins until it replaced my blood, and my heart pounded in my chest like a jackhammer. Everyone paused to look at me, apparently surprised to see me.
This was the moment.
"Is anyone here sick or injured?" I asked, looking over the group of people, trying to ignore the cameras aimed in my direction. I didn't give them time to answer. "No? Then what are you doing standing in the lobby of a free clinic? You know, the kind where poor people tend to go, otherwise they'll die?"
My tone was indignant as I chose to walk through the center of the room, brushing past the reporters. That seemed to break the spell because as I walked, they shoved about a dozen microphones down my throat. Or, they tried to, at least. I'm sure they would have succeeded if my mouth wasn't pressed into a thin line as I pushed through them, keenly aware of Superman's presence in the room.
This was not the plan. Holy shit, this was not the plan.
Pushing open the door, I was hit in the face with a wall of cold air. It helped. The cold and the pain in my arm honed my thoughts to a razor's edge. The reporters talked over each other until I couldn't make out a word that they said -- it all sounded like gibberish to me until I came to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk. Apparently, the reporters didn't care about road laws because in a moment, I found myself completely surrounded by reporters.
"I'm not going to answer any questions unless you all shut the fuck up!" I shouted the announcement, and being the loudest voice helped because they all nearly went silent instantly. "Now back up. If you're within swinging distance, I'm going to make someone eat a microphone." The reporters shared some looks, but I was keenly aware of Superman and Lois Lane. Superman took a pointed step back, as did Lois, who looked like she was losing the fight against the smile tugging at her lips. "Great. Now, one at a time," I said, pointing at a guy.
"Allen Tory CCA news -- Can you expand on your point in the clinic? What are your views on the healthcare system in America?"
What the fuck? "What the fuck?" I said aloud, making Allen shift where he stood.
"You're a multimillionaire, but you were found in a free clinic in Crime Alley. Is there a reason that you didn't go to an actual hospital?" He changed his question to something that made a bit more sense.
"Because… it’s free? I'm not sure if you're aware, but hospitals cost money. A lot of money. The only reason they can stay afloat is because they charge sick people for truckloads of cash. And if they die, they'll charge the relatives even though the patient, you know, died. Seems a bit weird to me," I rambled off an answer, forming an opinion pretty much as I spoke. I pointed a finger at someone else, who leaped at the chance to speak.
"How do you respond to the accusations that you're a human trafficker?" He questioned, earning a blink from me.
How to respond to that? Lie? In front of Superman? This video would be dissected by everyone -- random idiots online, the Justice League, the Light, the Court of Owls…
"I would respond by saying that's very old news that I've already disproven by not human trafficking anyone even a single time. And that you suck at your job. Next," I pointed, at Lois Lane.
She smiled as a red-headed guy shoved a camera in my face -- Jimmy Olsen, I think. "Lois Lane with the Daily Planet -- for months, rumors have circulated about a Saint Vergil in Gotham city. Are you him?"
I smiled, "No. I'm Vergil St. Jude, not Saint Vergil Saint Jude. But people have taken a liking to calling me that. No matter how many times I tell them to stop," I denied and confirmed.
I was projecting. Cranking up the sarcasm to eleven. Just like with a smile, it was easier to display a single emotion rather than fight off any emotion. It might not win me any friends, but that was okay.
"It seems odd that a proclaimed Saint would partake in what is shaping up to be the largest fraud case of the century," Lois Lane said, a pleasant smile on her face even as the teeth came out.
I smiled right back, "Yeah, that would be pretty weird, wouldn't it? It's almost like I'm not a saint or anything." That, I saw, caught her off guard. The whole crowd seemed to recoil, mulling over my answer.
Lois took a step forward, her eyes intense, "Are you confessing to fraud?"
My smile grew, "Absolutely not. I'm just pointing out that it would be weird if I was a proclaimed Saint who, theoretically could have partook in bribery, blackmail, and extortion. Seems like unsaintly behavior to me. But what do I know? I'm not Catholic."
Lois blinked, "Bribery, blackmail, and extortion?"
"That is what I said, yes."
"Are you confessing to those crimes?" A reporter asked, doing her absolute best to shove a microphone up my nose.
"I'm saying that it's theoretically possible that in this cluster of universes that a me might have allegedly, in theory, possibly bribed, lied, extorted, and blackmailed legalization for Lowtown despite it, you know, being created with exactly zero city approval or knowledge until a few days ago," I clarified my answer, smiling pleasantly all the while before I placed a finger on the microphone and pushed it away. Then I flicked it, making the camera guy wince. "That's for shoving a microphone up my nose."
Lois Lane smelled blood in the water, "And in this theoretical universe, why might you admit to and call attention to the fact that this theoretical you could have participated in felony crimes on live television?"
"Can't say for certain what a me in a different universe might have done, but the me in this universe guesses that it might have something to do with the fact that a highly illegal, city-spanning tunnel system was labeled legal because of threats and money. Doesn't that seem weird to you? Really makes you wonder what else is getting pushed through that's less obvious than a city-spanning tunnel system… that's now, legally, owned by me." I said, and Superman -- or Clark Kent, I guess, frowned deeply.
"You would expose that level of corruption? Why?" Another reporter questioned.
"I'm not doing anything. You know, except for theorizing about the multiverse. You know, there's probably a gender-bent version of the Justice League in one universe," I stressed, trying to make the guy get the hint. "But, if I had to theorize what a me in a different universe might say in this exact spot, at this exact time, surrounded by all of you, it might be because he's really, really, really worried about what people with less than stellar motives might be doing with that level of corruption. Oh, and because there might be a sniper."
The guy's jaw dropped and people started looking really nervous.
Their hesitation emboldened Lois, "And who, in this other universe, might be in on the plot to legalize Lowtown through illegal means?"
"I suppose it would have to be anyone that thinks they have something to gain, even though I am the sole proprietor of Sainthood Enterprises and legal owner of all the real estate that was opened up beneath the city," I answered, earning a sharp smile from Lois. It was a lot like a shark's. Clark, on the other hand, looked worried. For me, it would seem like, based on how he moved about four inches to the left. I guess so far he hasn't found any lies in my words, because there weren't any.
Just a lack of the full truth.
Gotham was so damn corrupt that I couldn't trust the system at all. Every move I made could be reported to someone. It wasn't that everyone was a spy for someone, just that everyone was looking to get their palms greased.
Gotham was going to remain corrupt. There was no fixing that. However, in theory, I could make the corruption only swing my way. The people that replaced the figures would be new, which won't mean much, but they'll be under a lot more scrutiny considering everything I've just said. For other people, they'll be harder to bribe or blackmail. But, let's say they bring their suit in for dry cleaning, and it so happens to get a listening device sprayed into the suit?
I wanted to be the only one that had dirt on the city council, the mayor, and so on.
"I would also imagine it's because that this other me in another universe intends to continue to abuse the corrupt and broken system of Gotham City. It's too convenient not to do it, I would imagine. I mean, theoretically, this other me got a city-spanning tunnel system. I wonder what else he could do? I imagine he could do a lot of good. Food for the hungry. Improved living conditions. Debt forgiveness for those shitty hospitals that love taking money from sick people." I smiled as I spoke, my gaze focused on Lois.
She was smiling back, "You intend to weaponize corruption into a force of good in Gotham?"
I shook my head, "Oh, no, not me. I'm way too big of a coward to do that. Why do you think I'm using you all as meatshields against the sniper that's being set up across the street on the fifth floor?" The tabloid reports bolted, cutting my human shields down to half. The others looked like they were going to follow suit, but they paused when Lois didn't so much as flinch. I guess she had no reason to on account that Superman was standing right behind her, who was looking off across the street, at the fifth floor, with an increasingly troubled expression.
The sniper set up in a building that Sainthood Construction had renovated. It also seemed like he realized he had been made, just not before Nightwing got the drop on him. Now that was interesting. How exactly had he known that he was there… did Batman want me to see the Batfamily saving my life?
"I see. If you don't mind me saying, I find it a little hard to believe that a you in another universe would be so… open about this. It's certainly Saint-like behavior," Lois commented.
I opened my mouth but another reporter spoke up, "You keep answering her questions," he pointed out with some annoyance.
I gave him a thin smile, "It's negative twenty degrees out here, yet Miss Lane's coat and jacket are undone one button too many. I'm a teenager with a hormone-soaked brain," I spoke, my tone as sweet as poison. To that, Superman looked at Lois and narrowed his eyes while Lois cocked her head. The guy frowned deeply.
"So, you're only answering her questions because… she's persevering in the cold?" It was pretty obvious that the guy switched tracks when he realized what he was about to accuse me of.
"That too. Maybe I would answer more of your questions if you put out more," I said, and the guy just blinked a few times before looking down at his buttoned-up coat. I'm guessing he was used to receiving far more politically correct lies instead of the blunt truth. Turning back to Lois, who cocked a very unimpressed eyebrow, "I'm not a saint. Don't know how many times I have to say that."
"So, what else would you call yourself other than a Saint? A criminal perhaps? A liar? Because you have all of Gotham believing that you're doing this purely out of the goodness of your heart. Because you love Gotham City and everyone in it." Lois said, a sharp edge in her tone.
To that, I hesitated to answer. But only for a moment, "And everyone who thinks that would be wrong."
For a second time, I caught her off guard. "What?" She questioned bluntly, sounding suspicious.
"I'm not doing this out of love. I'm not some savior that can only see the good in Gotham. Anyone who thinks that is wrong," I told her. I told all of Gotham as bluntly as I could manage. My smile was fixed on my face, and it became a genuine smile when I saw the stunned look on their faces. I took in a breath and told the truth. And nothing but the truth.
"I hate this city. Despise it, really. It's a corrupt dumpster fire of a city with no redeeming features at all. Pretty much everyone that lives here is an asshole to some degree. The system of Gotham routinely fucks people over, and more often than not, it's way more than they deserve. I hate this city," I told her, stressing the word.
"Then why try to save it? Why do… all of this?" Lois questioned since I seemed to have rendered everyone else speechless.
"Because of spite," I answered. "I've had a pretty shitty life. Better than some, so I feel like an asshole if I actually complain about it, but worse than most. And when I was at my lowest, when I needed help the most -- no one was there for me. Not my parents. Not my friends. Not the people that saw me drowning in problems. Everyone just turned a blind eye to it all because it was more convenient. And I hated them for that. Still do, to be honest."
That was the core of it all. Out of everything.
"I'm doing all of this because if I wasn't, then I'd try to burn this entire city to the ground," I finished, then added, "But the Justice League would probably have a few problems with that, so, I'm stuck with plan B -- turning this hellhole of a city into one that's actually worth living in. One block at a time. Or until the next sniper gets lucky." I said before I stepped forward, making the reporters take a step back.
"Now, I'm about to make a dramatic exit. I'd appreciate it if you didn't follow me since it'd be way less dramatic," I told them, walking forward and the crowd of reporters parted and stayed where they were.
My exit was dramatic enough to start a meme.
…
"It went as well as it could have. How's Cass?" I said, walking down the street, a phone in my ear. The call was likely being monitored. And fucking Superman of all people was probably keeping an ear out for every word that I said. The air was brutally cold, but everything but my face was nice and toasty. My cards were back in my pocket, two under my gloves. In theory, I was ready for an assassination attempt, but I was sorely missing the presence of 2B, Revy, Cass, or Tifa.
"Good. She just headed inside Stairway. Are you on your way?" Tifa questioned, trying to sound casual, but she couldn't mask her worried undertone.
"I'm on my way," I answered, hearing Tifa let out a sigh of relief.
"I heard you on the radio," she continued, "You were a jerk."
"I was being myself," I corrected, but I knew I was going to lose this argument before it could begin.
"Uh-huh," Tifa uttered, sounding like she didn't believe me in the slightest. "I thought the press release was in a few days?"
It was. "Change of plans. How was the reaction?" I asked, making my way back home. The reaction in Lowtown was going to be biased, but it would be a decent starting point. From the bottom-up -- my bet was the general population would like my attitude, while the higher you got up the social chain, the less they would like it. However, no matter how little they liked it, they couldn't ignore me.
Real estate in the city was expensive. Incredibly so. Buildings in the worst neighborhood, filled with rats, insects, squatters, and drug dealers would still cost in the ballpark of half a million and up. The nice parts of town? Ten million was the starting price and that was lowballing it.
Right now? I was holding billions in real estate thanks to some creative liberties with the law. I was the single largest landholder in all of Gotham overnight.
I was already a rising star in Gotham. Now I became someone that couldn't be ignored. Especially when I pretended like lots were for sale. They weren't. Ever. Lowtown was mine. But there wasn't any harm in pretending like they were the carrot at the end of a stick.
"Good. Really good. People seem to trust you a lot more now that they know you're fueled by hate and spite," Tifa remarked.
To that, I chuckled, "It's Gotham." I said, and that's all that I needed to say. Tifa seemed to agree. "I'm about to arrive, but I suspect I'm going to have a few surprise meetings. Take care of things for me until I'm done?" Tifa got the hint because I heard her swallow a sigh.
"I always do," Tifa agreed before I hung up. Tucking my phone in my pocket, I breathed in deeply.
Things hadn't gone to plan at all, but that was okay. Plans changed. They adapted. And, so far, things were shaking out better than my initial plan.
Batman was the variable. I hadn't expected him to arrive at the Iceberg Lounge, so I just thought on my feet. Acted like I thought that he was an ally -- throwing the fight, letting him break my wrist, all of it was to give Batman the impression that I thought that we were allies against Cobblepot. Too early to tell how that ploy worked, but Cobblepot…
I smiled to myself -- that had turned out better than my wildest expectations. Cass was there to lay the foundation to my escape from underneath Cobblepot's thumb. During the meeting, she planted listening devices in his office. The money would be tracked to where he stored his cash. The hope was that I would stumble across some very vital information that I could use against him to get that copy of the video he lied about not having. Cobblepot wasn't an idiot. There was no way he would willingly give up that leverage.
Instead, not only had I bugged his office and tacked the twenty-five million, but I found his servers. Or, rather, Batman had. The contents of which were copied over to my servers thanks to Pod 042, who was my new head of cybersecurity, but the information was all destroyed thanks to Cass stepping up. I gave her the magnets for if she found the copy of the video, but I didn't expect to find the motherload of data.
Names, bank accounts, blackmail, all the way to his investment portfolios. I had it all, and Cobblepot lost it all.
The absolute best part? He thought Batman did it. That he destroyed his servers because he thought that Cobblepot would go running to his backup servers. Which existed, but I was already in his systems now. The moment he connected to them, I would have them. All copies of that video would be destroyed.
I never thought that Batman would actually help me get one over the Penguin. I mean, I acted like I thought he would, but I never actually thought that I would be in this position. Not so quickly at least.
I had everything I needed to get out from underneath his thumb. But… I would let myself be pinned underneath it just for a while longer. After all, the more Batman focused on the Penguin, the less he focused on me, and the more helpful I appeared to be, the less likely Batman would suspect me.
Especially now that I was hot news and such a public figure. I had all but admitted what most would believe to be the extent of my crimes. If someone actually pursued those leads? There would be public outrage. I showed the public what they believed to be a smoking gun. I just couldn't let them find the real one that I had in my back pocket.
"Saint Vergil!" I was greeted the moment I opened the door to the bar. People's eyes lit up, as everyone turned to me, cheering my name. It was a nice moment, and all, but I was still uncomfortable with public adoration. It was weird to begin with, but especially now when it rang so hollow.
"It's nice to see you all, but I have a date with Batman to see if he's going to continue the ass-kicking he gave me earlier," I said, heading to the elevator. I could see a few of them start to think about that as I stepped inside and the doors closed. They could make of that what they wanted. Wasn't trying to drag Batman through the mud, but the more they trusted me and the less they trusted him the better.
A hand stretched out, summoning a card from my deck that I tossed to the side. 2B appeared next to me, looking momentarily disoriented before she offered a nod. I felt safer with her already.
Now, it was just a question of who would arrive first?
Batman? Or the Court of Owls?
Comments
Douglas Karr
Probably some confusion, a little admiration for what he can see under the roads and a bit of curiosity for what kind of kids can get this sort of stuff organized, regardless of backing
Mest450
I wonder what Clark's thoughts on Vergil were.
Gigifiy
Haha called it on the magnets being him
