IdeasGuy
patreon
See No Evil: Breaking Bread (ch. 37)
🕑 Added 2021-03-31 15:10:10 +0000 UTCIt wasn't paranoia if they really were out to get you and they sure as hell were out to get me. Worse, the they could apply to a variety of parties -- the police, the Batfamily, the mob, and now the Court of Owls. Each and every single one of them were circling, keeping tabs on my every action and every word I spoke. The only advantage I had was the fact that two of the most dangerous factions didn't know I was aware of them, and they were outright enemies in most cases. The downside was that out of the four, there were two groups of two that were allied.
"Vergil?" Tifa questioned, prompting me to look at her. "Is everything alright?" No. Everything was the exact opposite of alright. All of a sudden, my safety precautions seemed woefully inadequate. The implications that I was being scouted to join the Court of Owls hit me like a punch from Batman. They would have spies everywhere. Samantha practically admitted that they had some in Lowtown. How many? How far up the food chain?
I took in a deep breath and let it out. "Nope," I told her, offering her a smile. "I don't think we've danced all night," I remarked, earning a pleased smile in response. There was still a shade of worry in her eyes, knowing that wasn't the cause, but she decided to trust me. She probably thought it was about Batman. I almost wished that was the case. Batman, in the end… he was a threat I was familiar with. I knew his methods, I knew the lines he would cross and those that he wouldn't. The Court of Owls? They were a complete wild card.
"I was wondering if you'd ask," Tifa returned as we walked to the dance floor. "I didn't know if you could dance or not."
I took one hand in mine while the other settled on her waist, "I can't," I confirmed. "But I can sway to the music and turn around slowly like everyone else." The gala was a bit like a school dance -- just with less half-baked teenagers grinding over each other. I never really saw the appeal, and I still didn't. But, I suppose my tune would have changed a great deal if I had gone to those dances with a girl like Tifa.
Tifa laughed lightly before we officially entered the dance floor. "You seem pretty popular," Tifa remarked as we swayed to Christmas music. Not far away, I saw Dick and Barbara doing the same.
I huffed, "Nope. They're just amusing themselves with a street rat that thinks it's one of them." I had plenty of conversations over the night with plenty of people, but I would be genuinely shocked if I was contacted by any of them. They didn't have any interest in working with an up-and-coming company if they couldn't take a huge slice of the pie. I had no interest in being a publicly-traded company, I had no interest in being bought out, or merging (,)or joining a parent company -- thus, the one percent had no interest in me. "Actually, I think I made a few enemies. No one likes more competition and I'm going to be competing against most of them one way or another."
Tifa didn't look surprised. I should be offended, but I expected it too, in a way.
Still, it brought my attention to the Court of Owls. If I was being recruited… was I in a position to say no?
I was.
Between my illegal activities, I could support my company despite whatever corporate espionage they might engage in. The biggest worry was the Talons… but now that I knew they existed, I could handle them. The one in most danger of being assassinated was myself -- between my cards and my bodyguards, I was certain we could handle a Talon. The element of surprise was their greatest weapon and it was lost on us.
However, did I want to?
I would need to learn more about the society before I came to that decision(,) but joining the Court did offer some advantages. Connections, to start with. It was filled with the wealthy and affluent -- joining them could be good for Sainthood Enterprises. It could grant me backing to take Sainthood Enterprises beyond Gotham and look to taking the company international. Additionally, the Court would also serve as an excellent distraction for Batman.
If I felt the pressure on me, then a few hints that the Court was pulling my and Gotham's strings and he would be off.
The only real issue was that I would have to take orders in regards to my company and Lowtown. I didn't like the thought of it. Not in the slightest. The idea of some pompous fuck getting his grubby fingers over Lowtown or Sainthood Enterprises… I wanted to say no on reflex. The very idea was a horrid one. Yet, that could be circumvented(,) because simply put, I knew at least one of their members. Possibly the Grandmaster or the next Grandmaster.
I needed to launch my own investigation into the Court. Find a few of their skeletons… if I could learn exactly who their members were, all the better. If the Vanaver family really did run the Court of Owls, then doing so would be that much easier. It would take a little time and a little finesse(,) and a little bowing my head -- but… but, with it all, I could end up controlling the Court of Owls.
It was an intriguing thought. Mostly because it was entirely possible. I doubt it would be so simple, but I could dig up some blackmail on them to take them over and snip their talons while I was at it. I had never considered it before, but… could I make a mind-controlling device? They seemed to be everywhere in Comics, so the possibility was there…
I was dragged out of my thoughts by Tifa planting a kiss on my cheek, "Don't get so distracted that you step on my toes, Vergil," she warned. She was completely oblivious to my thoughts. For now at least. I would talk things over with her when I was certain that we weren't being overheard by a dozen people.
"I wouldn't. You'd step on mine back, and I'm betting those heels would do a lot of damage," I returned, knowing that those black heels absolutely would. "Enjoying your debut to high society?" I asked, setting my thoughts aside for now. I had plenty of things to overthink, but I could do that later. For now, I should focus on Batman and Tifa. Just for two very different reasons.
Tifa offered a small shrug as we slowly swayed across the dance floor in slow circles. I had no clue if we were doing it right, but I couldn't see anyone doing anything differently. "It's different than I thought it would be. It's what every country girl back home wanted -- fancy dresses, parties, and rich people…" she trailed off, going to press her lips into a thin line(,) but she seemed keenly aware of her makeup.
She didn't have to continue. "The idea was more fun in thought than practice?" I finished for her.
"Something like that," Tifa agreed. "Maybe next time we can host our own fancy party. I think Cass would have fun. Revy… I think she would look good in a dress, but…" good luck getting her in one.
I hummed in thought, "I'm sure it'll be fine so long as we can hide the bodies in time." Because Revy would have started shooting out of principle by now. That earned us an odd look from the couple nearby that quickly, but slowly, spun away. Tifa gave me an admonishing look, figuring that I had done that on purpose. She was only a little right. It was mostly a happy coincidence. "Gotta make my own fun somehow."
Tifa looked beyond me, "Speaking of fun…" she trailed off, bringing my attention to someone behind me. Jason stood at the edge of the dance floor, waving us down before he jabbed a thumb at a door. A knot of tension formed between my shoulder blades and I had to take in a calming breath.
Right. I suppose it was about that time then, huh?
Walking off the dance floor we headed to Jason, who confirmed my suspicions. "Bruce wants to talk to you. Alone," he added, glancing at Tifa.
I figured that would be the case. "Alrighty then. But there are more subtle ways to steal a dance," I remarked, and the look I received from Jason could best be described as murderous. Tifa laughed before she reached out a hand for him to take, giving me a warm gaze to mask her worry.
"I'm sure Jason will be a perfect gentleman," Tifa said, making the murderous look melt away into one of embarrassment as he took her hand.
"He better be. Break his neck if he gets handsy," I teased, earning a Look from Jason and Tifa.
"In front of all these witnesses and to Bruce's son?" Tifa pointed out, seemingly pleased with my remark in some way. I wasn't quite sure why, though.
I pretended to think about it for a second, "The legs then." I corrected, earning a flipped bird thrown my way before I waved them both off to head towards the door that Alfred waited by. He nodded as a greeting, guiding me through the hall with a 'this way, sir.' and I memorized the route that we took. After walking down a long hallway, the music became fainter and fainter until the only thing I could hear was the sounds of our footsteps.
This was the moment. The do-or-die moment that I had dreaded for months now. This was the moment that Batman and I finally ran into each other. This was the conversation that determined where I sat on his priority list(,) if I sat on it at all.
Alfred led me to an office -- a fairly large room with the walls lined with books, and a big window on the back wall. In front of it was a desk with a theater chair that Bruce Wayne currently sat in. The friendly smiles were gone, telling me that I wasn't dealing with the Brucie persona. I was dealing with Bruce Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and a father of two. The civilian persona that was closest to Batman that he could use.
"Thank you, Alfred. Vergil, please take a seat," Bruce said, gesturing to a seat across from him. He watched me cross the room, his body language tense, but not overbearing. "Can Alfred get anything for you? I've seen you around the gala talking up a storm," Bruce noted.
Friendly. "I'm good, thank you for the offer, though." I turned the offer down politely. Bruce's eyebrows drew together, apparently concerned. I just couldn't trust anything that he would give me. If anything, he was more concerned why I would refuse something from Bruce Wayne. "I'm guessing that this has to do with the message Jason passed along?" I asked before Bruce could press the issue and dose me with whatever truth serum he had up his sleeve.
Bruce offered a slow nod, his dark blue eyes darting to Alfred, who bowed before closing the doors. The moment they closed, Bruce let out a small sigh, "Jason told me that you had a message for Batman. He didn't say what -- just that you had evidence for him?"
I doubted that's all that Jason said. In response, I reached into my pocket and retrieved a thumb drive, which I set on the desk and slid towards Bruce. "That," I began, and each word I spoke could be the difference between success or failure. And given that I was dealing with Batman, failure was making a minuscule mistake. My story had to be perfect. The kind of perfect that Batman couldn't poke a hole into no matter how he tried. "Is a sample of evidence proving that Oswald Cobblepot is the Penguin."
Bruce Wayne missed his calling as an actor because he sputtered, visibly recoiling from the information like he couldn't possibly believe his ears. "I… what? What do you mean Mr. Cobblepot is the Penguin?! I've met the man -- I wouldn't call him a pleasant man by any means, but the Penguin?" He shook his head as if he were in denial. "How did you learn that?"
So, we're playing it like that, were we? "Well, it's an open secret in certain circles(,) but I am a member of the Penguin Mob," I admitted, and Bruce couldn't look more shocked if I smacked him across the face. He was verifying the story that I gave Jason, which I'm guessing that he had fact-checked to a degree, as well as seeing what I was willing to admit to. "There are some… extenuating circumstances with my recruitment that I'd rather not get into. Simply put, I couldn't be any more of the Penguin's puppet unless his hand was literally up my ass."
Bruce took in a deep breath, looking down at the thumb drive with the same expression that he would a coiled snake that had been dropped into his lap. "I… see. You said a sample?" He questioned, his lips thin and his gaze heavy.
I nodded, "A sample. There is more to build a concrete case against the Penguin, but if Batman wants it, I'll be needing guarantees from Batman." It was a delaying tactic, and a natural move for someone who didn't know that Bruce Wayne was Batman, and something someone that had broken the law and wanted to escape justice would say.
So far, I had managed to prevent most people from knowing the depths of my crimes. However, with Batman, I had to assume that he knew every dirty secret I held(,) while crafting a story that didn't hint at any of them to not tip him off if he didn't know. To that end, I had to assume he knew about the Blackgaters -- Lowtown's role in their downfall and the prisoners that we once had. As well as the circumstances of Tifa's rescue.
I was planning to act my part in Batman's expectations. I couldn't give him any reason to think better or worse of me right now. Not to Bruce Wayne, because it would make very little sense if I just confessed my every evil deed to a man that I had just met as well as my… competitor in business. It'd be like handing over Blackmail material rather than admitting to vague rumors that would soon be baseless. I had to twist the narrative, shine a spotlight on the facts I wanted seen and hide the ones I didn't in the shadows.
I had to play Batman. I had to think twenty steps ahead because I knew he was thinking ten steps ahead of his assumption that I was only thinking five.
"Vergil… I… I'm not sure Batman can give you those guarantees," Bruce admitted. Was he throwing me off the scent, or was he confirming that any attempt at reaching a deal was pointless? "If you've broken the law, then…"
"Mr. Wayne… have you ever been in a position where no matter what you do… you are absolutely fucked?" I questioned, seemingly catching Bruce off guard. I thought I saw a hint of Batman leak through when I saw his eyes narrow. "You do the right thing and you're screwed. Do the wrong thing, you're screwed. Do nothing, you're screwed. Try to go outside the box, and you're screwed…"
I sighed, "I'm going to be very blunt with you, Mr. Wayne -- do I deserve to be in prison?" I started, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "Yes… Yes, I do." I admitted to him, and he adopted an expression of surprise. "I broke the law plenty of times. More times than I care to think about. Do I have regrets? I do. Sometimes I wish it wasn't necessary, but even if I had a chance to go back and do it all over again -- I'd still be sitting in this chair, speaking to you, and trying to cover my ass and prevent my many crimes from biting me in it."
I sat tall in my chair, interlocking my fingers in my lap. "Lowtown is worth it. Nearly fifteen thousand people live there now. People that would have died on the streets without us giving a free bed, free food… and with Sainthood Enterprises, I can give them jobs."
Bruce leaned forward, "Forgive my interruption, but, as I understand, a significant portion of the population in Lowtown are wanted criminals. Revy Two-Hands, in particular, is wanted for brutally murdering her father as well as a well-respected police officer."
I nodded, "Both of which brutally beat and raped her as a child." That wasn't my secret to tell, nor one that I should know. I shouldn't throw it in his face like that. Still, it was too effective of a tactic for me to not use. Bruce's lips thinned and I wondered if he had known that. "Mr. Wayne, do you understand how fucking awful the streets are when you have children less than ten years old acting as killers for higher? Did Revy break the law? Yeah, she did. But they both deserved it."
Bruce leaned forward, his elbows propped up on the desk and he seemed to hunch over it. His gaze was sharper. Maybe he was less good of an actor as I thought because I could see Batman leaking through. Or, in the more likely case, Batman was trying to trick me in some way. "I'm afraid that isn't how the law works, Vergil."
How should I play this? I had an avenue of attack. How should I present my argument?
I shrugged carelessly, "Mr. Wayne, I couldn't care less about the law if I tried." I admitted with brutal honesty. "I don't care about justice. I don't care about being righteous or fair. What I care about is Lowtown and the people that live there. The ones that were so desperate and so out of options that they risked their lives coming to it because not long ago, rumors were that we were the biggest human trafficking operation in Gotham. I care about its future -- we're at fifteen thousand in a few months. By next year, there might not be anyone dying on the streets from exposure."
The casual dismissal of lawful authority would fit my profile, and the follow-up would confirm my priorities.
"There won't be gangs beating homeless people to death because they know the cops won't care to investigate. There won't be women forced into prostitution and sent to freeze on a corner by shitbag pimps. There won't be people forced to commit crimes because their other option is death," I stated, my hands tightening as I spoke, a hard edge in my voice that wasn't entirely faked. That would support whatever Jason had told him. What Jason had said, I didn't know, but it was likely along those lines because Batman hadn't shown up.
There was a beat of silence that was only broken by the quiet sound of Bruce's leather chair shifting as he leaned back, his expression set in a deep grimace by what he had heard.
"I understand that the system has failed a lot of people. Too many," Bruce began, his tone grim, his hands clutched together as they rested on his desk, and his shoulders squared -- was I speaking to Batman at the moment, or the persona of Bruce Wayne? "That was never clearer until I adopted Jason. My heart goes out to everyone that the system has failed, but I cannot condone completely abandoning it in search of personal brands of justice."
Ah. I was speaking to Bruce Wayne at the moment. "Is that why you fund Batman?" I pressed, making Bruce's eyes narrow.
"Batman exists to uphold the system. Supporting it where it's weak and catching those that slip through the cracks. For that, his methods are condoned by the UN and recent Vigilante laws," Bruce pointed out, and that was a fair point. I just wondered if it ever got weird talking about himself in the third person like that.
I nodded in agreement, "Yet, Batman harms as much as he helps." Bruce didn't give a visible reaction to that, so I continued. "I completely agree that Batman upholds the system. Do I think he should… no, but that's not really my call to make. I don't know what motivates him(,) or really know anything about him but I don't need to. Batman drew a line in the sand and has refused to cross over it. That's completely fair and respectable."
"A handful of months ago, before winter started, I was in a bad way. It was freezing out already, and the only things I had were the clothes on my back. If something didn't change soon, then I was going to die of exposure," I suddenly shifted the topic ever so slightly before Bruce could respond. "Then an opportunity dropped into my lap -- do some Henching work for the Penguin. Just move some boxes from a boat to a truck, and I would be looking at a few hundred dollars. That was the difference between life and death for me."
I shook my head, "I almost didn't go through with it because I was terrified of Batman swooping in on the job. I was afraid of getting my legs and arms broken(,) because I doubted that Batman would be willing to hear my excuses. That if I didn't do it, then odds were I was a dead man. Because if he did come? Then I might as well put a gun in my mouth, angle up and blow out the back of my head -- at least that way, I wouldn't freeze to death. Or starve, I suppose. Him being there would have been a death sentence for me."
Bruce shifted, and I wondered if I had managed to strike a nerve there.
This was my only advantage. I was able to talk about Batman, to Batman, without him being the wiser. I was able to use his secret identity against him. I had no illusion that my words would somehow spark a change in him or anything like that, but if I could make him see things from my point of view…
I was doing whatever it took to make Lowtown succeed(,) and Lowtown made Gotham a better place. Thus, whatever I did was justified even if it did break the law. It was because of that reason I wanted to stay out of jail, not because I feared going to jail itself. I had no clue how many dirty secrets he had found, but it didn’t seem like he knew about them all. With that perception, any action I took after this would reflect that view.
The exodus of the LG, who would then become the new Kings of East End? I attempted to keep Lowtown on the up and up, and punting them out of the LG wasn’t enough to kill all the goodwill I had built with them. My business expansions into the Narrows, the Bowery, and Crime Alley? They were the worst neighborhoods in the city. That was just a natural focal point.
The goal was to use this moment where we weren’t enemies to convince him that Saint Vergil and Batman didn’t need to be. I couldn’t expect him to turn a blind eye to everything, especially something like murder. However…
However, something like a redemption story? That, I think Batman could swallow.
“You’re being awfully forthcoming, Vergil,” Bruce remarked, pretending like he had to buy himself time to think about what I said. He wore a troubled expression for a moment, his lips twisting into a small frown.
I offered a thin smile, “For my own reasons, I promise you. I’m not sure what your relationship is with Batman, but I’m hoping that if you throw in a good word, then he’ll lean toward leniency. Or give Lowtown a chance to prove that the city is better off with us,” I answered. Being direct was in my best interest. The more direct I was, the less reason he had to suspect that I was trying to out-think him.
A small laugh escaped Bruce, telling me that Batman was not amused. “The media has been trying to puzzle out my relationship with Batman for the better part of a decade. Simply put -- I view Batman as a business partner, of sorts. He goes outside of the law to support the law.” He stressed the word, and I wondered if that was a hint or a red herring to distract me. “I… can pass along your intentions, but I’m uncertain if it would do anything. As much as I support him, me pulling support isn't a reason for him to not continue with his work.”
That was a vague answer. He was trying to convince me that it was out of his hands, but we both knew that it clearly wasn’t, even if he thought only one of us knew that. Should I take Bruce willing to pass along my story as a good gesture or as an empty one to convince me that Bruce Wayne could do nothing for me?
“I understand. Batman never struck me as someone to be controlled. Still, if it would be possible, I would like to make an arrangement with him. Solid evidence to put the Penguin away for good. Provided that the judge and jury aren’t bribed, of course. I suppose we can discuss details when Batman comes to collect.” One way or another.
Bruce looked almost guilty, “I can’t say that I understand the position you’re in, but Jason and Dick have had nothing but good things to say about you and Lowtown. I can see how much you care about it… and you’re so young… God, I was blowing millions on strippers when I was your age,” he seemed to deflate before he grimaced deeply.
Interesting. That was promising, which meant that he was likely trying to get me to lower my guard.
“I can’t make any promises, but… try to work with Batman. I’ll nudge him to do the same. As much as I can,” Bruce said, knowing that the conversation had reached its conclusion. He stood up(,) and I did the same. He reached out a hand, and I shook it with no hesitation. He probably put some kind of tracer on me. Possibly microscopic cameras and microphones, like in that one Spy Kids movie. I would need to wash my hands off before leaving. Unless he put them in the water?
“That’s all I can ask for,” I said, offering a smile. “I appreciate it. Really. I know this is a whole lot to throw at someone and I can’t imagine this was what you wanted to be doing tonight.”
To that, Bruce laughed while he let go of my hand. “A stuffy party like this? Anything is better,” he remarked, shifting more in line with his Brucie persona.
Yeah… I agreed.
…
“Did it go well?” Tifa questioned as we got into the limo, putting the party behind us. We were forced to put up with the party for another couple of hours for appearance’s sake, so both of us were feeling exhausted. My brain in particular felt like it had been turned into mush from the constant awareness of how I presented myself and looking out for threats. Worse, I was starving, and my throat felt raw because I hadn’t taken a sip at the manor.
A problem that was made worse with the attention I received(,) because people noticed that Bruce Wayne and I disappeared to have a talk.
“Don’t know yet. We’ll find out when Batman shows up,” I responded, melting into the seat. In the end, I couldn’t trust anything that Bruce Wayne said. I had to assume that Batman was thinking ten steps ahead of me even though I was trying to think ten steps ahead of him. He would come when I least expected it, with facts that would kill my story, and demands to turn myself in.
If it came to that, was I prepared?
No. Not quite yet.
“I need to pay off my loan from Cobblepot,” I muttered distractedly as the limo brought us back into Gotham proper. Twenty-five million… it’s been looming over my head for long enough. It also meant that the new gang would need to start soon to explain where I got the twenty-five million. In truth, I was planning to pay him off with a mix of dirty money and counterfeit bills.
I needed to get my hands on the tape. And I needed to find where exactly I stood with Cobblepot. If he didn’t keep any in reserve… I just couldn’t have that video of me committing murder to ever see the light of day.
Tifa looked at me(,) but said nothing. Eventually, we arrived at our building before we got out and headed to her apartment. Cass was curled up on the couch, despite having her own room. She probably woke up the moment we opened the door, but she pretended to be asleep as we headed to Tifa’s room.
I kicked off my shoes, intent on falling face-first into the bed and shutting off my brain. It felt like it could start leaking out of my ears at any moment. I wasn’t suited for thinking at the speeds that Batman operated at on a default level.
“Vergil?” Tifa spoke up as I took a seat on her bed, rolling my ankles. It had been completely worth getting higher ranked arch support shoe soles.
“Yeah-” I started, glancing over at her, and pausing when I saw the look that she was giving me. Her eyes half-lidded, her gaze smoky while one hand went to the hook that went around her neck and held up the entirety of her dress.
She undid it and it pooled around her ankles, leaving her in nothing but a pair of black lace pieces on strings with delusions of being called underwear and high heels.
“Oh.”
…
This was a fun chapter to write because both Bruce and Vergil were playing each other. The easiest way to put it is -- Bruce was playing 4D checkers with Vergil, but Vergil thought he was playing 5D chess, so Vergil tried playing 6D chess. His paranoia saved him from a lot of small hooks that Bruce was trying to dig into him because Bruce respects personal boundaries and privacy laws about as much as Vergil does.
Comments
The Panda Queen
Moar!!! Like my God ideas-guy, your writing is fan-fucking-tastic
Draconic Hermit
Are you planning on a Batman POV chapter at one point? The reason I'm asking is because this felt intense just through reading it, I wonder how it would have felt if we saw through Bruce's side of things.
NephyrisX
When you become so paranoid that even Batman thinks you need to chill, y'all.
