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See No Evil: Masks and Dances (ch. 36)
🕑 Added 2021-04-07 14:51:34 +0000 UTCBatman started out as a legend about a decade ago. An urban myth and no one knew if he was real or not. The only evidence of his existence were rumors and the broken bodies of the criminals that he left behind to spread those rumors. Of course, when you get every bone in your body broken by a guy, your memory plays tricks on you, or you lie to make your ass getting beat black and blue sound reasonable to preserve your reputation.
Those rumors still persisted years later. Batman was a vampire. Batman was half bat. Batman was a ghost of Gotham. Batman was all of the above.
Batman was the boogieman to criminals. He was the unrelenting and unstoppable force of nature that would not rest until justice had been dealt. Way back, when I first arrived in Gotham, I had just about shat myself at the thought of meeting him -- the Henching job, then the drug deal. I had been reassured through logic and math -- simply put, it's physically impossible for the Batfamily to be everywhere at once.
If I didn't have that debt hovering above my head, I might have not gone through with the cocaine deal. A one and a million chance was still one in a million, and my prize would be swallowing my teeth and a broken spine.
Batman became so terrifying that the one in a million chance of him busting you was enough to deter crime.
And that fear never went away, I realized as I shook Batman's hand. I got better at dealing with it and handling it. I built up my defenses, I reassured myself that I had no reason to be afraid of him because he never revealed himself to me. I buffed up my defenses, I crafted my story… but, deep down, that fear was still there. Simply because I knew that it wouldn't mean shit if Batman decided to really come for me. The house of cards would come tumbling down the moment I became his priority. Batman took down bigger, badder, smarter, and better prepared people than me with ease.
I only made it this far because I wasn't his priority.
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne," I told him, giving him a hesitant, but friendly smile to keep the fear off my face. "You probably hear this all the time, but I'm a big fan of your charity work. Something like a paid electricity bill really can be the difference between life and death in Gotham." I told him, sticking to the script I gave myself.
In the end, me being afraid was normal. I expected to shit my pants the moment I came face to face with Batman and understand I was exactly the kind of person that he chewed up and spat out on the daily. And I couldn't hide it. Not completely. So, I had to misdirect it.
Bruce laughed as he clapped me on the shoulder, "You don't have to be so nervous, Vergil! The heaters were a nice touch, and I'm fine with a little higher electricity bill than I expected if it means people aren't losing their toes," he reassured. "Actually, I believe you stole my line -- I'm a big fan of your charity work. So is my son, Jason."
And there it was. My reason for being so nervous. In the end, I did jack up his electricity bill way the hell up without so much as a how-do-you-do. More than that, the identity that I bought put me at sixteen. A sixteen years old that was on and off the streets before being catapulted to high society. Simply put -- it would be more suspicious if I wasn't a nervous wreck. I was supposed to be completely out of my element. I suppose I was, but I was far too worried about Batman snapping my spine like a toothpick to be even remotely nervous at rubbing elbows with Gotham's elite.
"Thank you, sir," I said, defaulting to polite mode. "But most of the credit should go to Tifa and a few others. They're the heart and soul of Lowtown and Sainthood Enterprises. I'm just the checkbook and an average face."
If Tifa rolled her eyes any harder, they would have popped right out of her head. "By that, he means none of it would be possible without him. And he's very cute," Tifa corrected, earning a warm chuckle from Bruce Wayne.
"I'm sure -- still, give yourself a little credit. In a few months, you've made a multi-million dollar company. I might be hosting the gala, but I hope you're prepared to be the star of the show," he warned. To that, I blinked. For one… no, I was not prepared. I thought I would be the outcast that was forced to eat table scraps on account of being an unclean peasant as far as the one percent were concerned. I might have money, but I was new money.
Secondly, that sounded like genuine advice and a warning. Bruce Wayne was the mask for Batman, so by default, I had to doubt every single interaction that we had. Likewise, provided that Jason had passed along my message, Bruce Wayne should also know that I'm a criminal that was trying to incriminate the Penguin in exchange for amnesty. So, neither Batman nor Bruce Wayne had reason to be especially nice to me. Did Jason not pass along the message? The Arkham breakout did happen that same day, but I doubt it would be something he forgot. Or was this a part of Bruce Wayne's character? Willing to turn a blind eye to misdeeds so others feel freer to talk about them to him so he could catch them as Batman?
That sounded like the kind of 4D chess move he'd pull.
"Right," I responded, "Well, I'm going to have to deal with them eventually. Might as well be now," I decided. Still, I really didn't like not knowing where I stood with Bruce Wayne -- sure, the whole Brucie identity was completely fake, but at the same time, Batman didn't know that I knew that so I needed to be able to gauge my interactions with his fake persona.
If I thought he was being too friendly, I could assume he was leading me into a trap to kick my ass as Batman. If he was too probing with his questions, I could assume he was investigating me. Likewise, I could try to feed Bruce answers to trip up Batman.
Hopefully.
"And… sorry to bring the mood down, but I wanted to offer my condolences about Harvey Dent," I told Bruce, making his eyes widen a fraction. I'm sure he did that on purpose. "I know the two of you were friends when he became who he became. So, you lost a friend, regardless of who he was." I offered, trying to gauge his reaction.
I was trying to play 4D chess with Batman. How stupid could I be?
Bruce offered a thin smile, putting on a sorrowful mask. "Thank you. I know most won't mourn Two-Face, but Harvey Dent was one of the best men that I've known," he said. Then he adopted a faux look of hesitation, "I… probably shouldn't ask, but… " he trailed off, hinting at his unspoken question.
"I didn't kill him, no matter what the news is saying. One of his guys shot him in the back after learning that he brought a bomb into 7th Heaven. It wasn't exactly clean, but he was in shock so it would have been painless," I answered, analyzing the pained grimace that Bruce wore.
His lips thinned before he sighed, "The news left out the part of the bomb. Christ, I'm so sorry." He offered, and I knew he was lying. Jason had been there to find the bomb and I highly doubt that detail hadn't been mentioned at some point. The apology was likely fake too on account that getting an apology out of Batman was like ripping out teeth, only ripping out teeth was vastly more enjoyable in comparison. "Thank you for your honesty. It's… it's hard to think that was once Harvey…" he trailed off with a shake of his head and a sigh.
Maybe it would have been best to not say anything, but it was important that I did. "Sorry for bringing it up. I just wanted to clear the air a bit since the media took that story and ran with it."
Bruce nodded, offering a weak-sounding chuckle, “I understand completely. I’ve been there a few times myself." Then he shook his head, "To clear the air -- I don't hold what happened to Harvey against you. In the end, he made his own choices. Maybe if he got the help that he needed when he needed it, that wouldn't have happened, but he didn't and it did. The only thing we can do now is move past it." He offered and I didn't believe a word that came out of his mouth. He was just telling me that to put me off guard.
"Just get used to telling that story tonight. Jason wasn't the only one that wanted you to be here," Bruce advised somewhat cryptically. "Sadly, I do have other guests, but if you're open to it, we can speak later after I'm done playing host." He offered, throwing on a lopsided and charming grin.
I nodded, "I'd like that." I lied through my teeth, and with that, Batman walked off. I could practically see the grin melting off his face as he walked away, even though I turned my direction towards the ballroom itself. Or maybe he kept it in place because I kept mine as we walked in opposite directions.
What I gathered from that was Bruce Wayne was trying to rub elbows with me. How much of it was because of what Jason told him and how much was to make me lower my guard was up for debate. That would probably be revealed during round two of playing 4D chess with Batman. The only advantage I had was that Bruce Wayne didn't know I knew he was Batman. However, Batman was a grandmaster in the art of 4D chess and I was the bumbling novice that had no right to be playing in the first place.
"That wasn't so bad," Tifa remarked, sounding pleased with the outcome. She sounded like she honestly believed that, telling me that she had completely missed the game being played there. "The worst-case scenario won't always happen in everything. Okay, so maybe the conversation was a little stiff, but that doesn't mean he hates your guts." Tifa tried to reassure me, but I knew better.
So far, I had caught Bruce out in two lies -- the bomb and not holding the death of Harvey against me. That showed his hand a bit. Bruce Wayne wasn't the one that would confront me. Batman would. So, that gave me an opening, however small, to twist the story I gave Bruce Wayne which would, in turn, let me prepare for how Batman confronted me.
But, given that it was Batman, I had to assume that he was thinking ten steps ahead of me. That he already had evidence and he was using Bruce Wayne to check the story I would give. Meaning that for my own sake, I had to stick as closely to the truth as I possibly could to avoid detection. A touch here and a hint there -- something to nudge the story to paint myself into a better light.
I became increasingly aware of my cards in my pocket. Most of them were filled with emergency responses if this night did go to hell in a handbasket, but there was also a thumb drive. One with raw footage taken from my contacts. Minimal editing to secure its integrity, and it was all the parts that painted me in a good light most of the time.
Tifa gave me a pinch when I failed to answer, "Maybe, but I'm a prepare for the worst kind of guy," I pointed out.
Tifa offered a wan smile, "I've noticed." At least she knew what she was getting into. "Just try to have a little fun, Vergil." I wasn't sure how that was possible at all even without the looming threat of Batman kicking my ass. I'm sure that there were half a hundred cameras all trained on me at this very moment, analyzing my every move and facial expression. Every word that I said could be used against me.
To that end, my gaze swept over the ballroom, searching for those cameras, but it would seem that Batman hid his as well as I hid mine. The ballroom was a large room, about the size of a school gymnasium, which was an absolutely wild thing to have inside of your house. At the center of the room was a Christmas tree of epic proportions -- a good two dozen feet tall, richly decorated with Christmas lights and ornaments. A handful of people mingled about near the tables, but I’m guessing that they were the help.
Distantly, I thought it was kind of awkward. We arrived too early and now the host had left us to our own devices inside his house. If there was a couch to sit on, then I'd happily do it, but there were only long tables filled with food.
Tifa apparently had the same idea that I did because the next thing that I knew, I was being dragged over to the tables. I eyed the food -- who in the fuck ordered steak as finger food? I saw a table of five-star meals waiting to be eaten, each a sample size of what had once been a full meal. All of it looked great, but as my eyes landed on a plate I found particularly delicious -- a steak fillet wrapped in bacon…
Batman probably planted it there.
Through his own surveillance, he would have known that Tifa and I would be arriving first. Combine that with the fact that I'm sure that he knew my favorite foods better than I did at this point, it would be simple for him to arrange for me to pick out a dish that he had loaded up the gills with truth serum or something. He wanted to talk to me later… a delayed reaction? I go through the night as normal, then whenever he talks to me, the drugs kick in and I spill my guts to him? Shit… I don't think I could eat anything tonight.
Batman thought ten steps ahead of everyone, so I had to think at least twenty if I wanted to make it through this.
“Hey Fuckface, hey Tifa,” a familiar voice greeted, and I swallowed a flinch when I heard it. I think I had gotten too used to getting a bird’s eyes view of my surroundings in Lowtown, making it incredibly difficult to sneak up on me. Though, I’m sure Robin would find a way to do it anyway.
Looking over, I saw Jason approaching. Beyond him was Dick Grayson and another -- a mane of red hair that was pinned up in a braid, deep green eyes, high cheekbones, and pouty lips. A red dress clung to an hourglass figure… there was no mistaking who she was. Barbara Gordon.
“Hey, Dickhead,” I returned instinctively while Tifa greeted Jason with a much more mundane ‘hello, Jason.’ Jason scowled at me, but I was used to it at this point. Jason looked… like me, in a way. An infant in a suit. He normally looked a lot younger than what he really was, but in a tux, he looked even younger because he looked like he was trying to make himself look older.
“Nice bow tie,” Jason remarked and I noticed that he was wearing a tie. My gaze flickered to Dick and I saw he was wearing a bow tie. So had Bruce. Did I not have to wear one?
“Thanks. It’s a clip-on,” I told him, much to his amusement and Tifa’s exasperation. “Nice outfit,” I returned. Maybe giving Jason shit wasn’t the best course of action, but it was in line with what I usually did. My brain was working overtime, so very aware of everything about myself to make sure that I was acting in line with what I would normally do and not as if I knew that Batman was watching my every move.
“It’s a rental,” Jason returned, flashing me a cocky smirk. “I’m surprised that you showed up. You couldn’t pay me enough to willingly come to one of these parties. Just a bunch of blue bloods rubbing elbows together and laughing at how much money they have.” He started, earning a cocked eyebrow from me while Dick and Barbara made their way over.
Orders from Batman? It would make sense, to a degree. We would know absolutely no one here, but by giving us a familiar face to latch onto, we would end up sticking with them for the vast majority of the night. That was normal. When you were in a room filled with people you didn’t know, you drifted towards familiar faces. Jason was a natural pick on account that he was still a frequent visitor to Lowtown. And, in turn, they would keep an eye on us.
"Necessary evils to the job. If I want Sainthood Enterprises to be more than just a blip on some people's radars, then it comes down to who I know." I told Jason with a shrug.
"By kissing ass?" He questioned just as Dick and Barbara approached.
"By kissing all the ass," I agreed. Turning to them, I saw Dick give me a warm smile. He was dressed up, and for a second time, I couldn't help but notice just how stupidly handsome he was. I didn't really bother comparing my looks to other people -- I was decent-looking enough and that was enough for me. I just felt like I suddenly became the Hunchback of Notre Dame standing next to him. Even still, we shook hands.
"It's great to see you again," Dick said, sounding like he actually meant it, which made me doubt it that much more. "Babs, this is Vergil St. Jude, he was the one that I told you about. Vergil, this is Barbara Gordon, my girlfriend."
Barbara flashed a pleasant smile that didn't quite meet her eyes… "So, you're the one I have to thank." She said, and I had absolutely no clue what she meant by that.
Dick quickly explained, "Things between me and Jason have been better," he said, placing a hand directly on top of Jason's hair. Only to have it swatted away as Jason made a noise of disgust.
"Fuck off, Di-..." Jason cut himself off, his eyes landing on Tifa, who cocked her head. "Don't mess up my gel, Dick," he corrected and Barbara made a noise of astonishment while Dick just laughed while he apologized.
"That's a trick worth learning," Barbara remarked, earning a blush from Jason that crept up his neck, while Tifa just smiled as she laughed. A thought crept up from the back of my mind, something that could only be called a lingering regret. A vague wish that I could bask in the moment without fear or suspicion because there would be no reason to be suspicious. If I had done things differently at the start, then I wouldn't be standing here as a criminal, but as a hero.
I let that thought pass. What was done was done. Plus, I don't think I would make for a very good superhero.
We stood around and made small talk for a bit. Dick offered to introduce me around as the guests started to show up, which I'm guessing was a way to control who I interacted with. Still, I decided to take him up on his offer because it was still a good opportunity. If Bruce Wayne was trying to help me out, then it would be a waste to not cash in on his generosity. After all, the goal tonight was to make connections for Sainthood Enterprises, and the more above-board I could be, the better.
About thirty minutes later, the gala was in full swing. Guests arrived in force, and Bruce Wayne had been right -- I was the star of the show. At first, I thought I was a convenient way to break the ice with Dick, but even when Dick eventually had to break off on the occasion, leaving me with either Jason or Barbara to watch over me, the millionaires and billionaires stuck around.
Bruce was also right about me having to repeat that story over and over and over again. That I didn't kill Two-Face. That it was one of his own men. And so on and so on. That seemed to be an opener for more business-related questions -- did I plan to open the stock to the public? Hell to the fuck no. Interest in partnerships, mergers, and so on. It was pretty easy to read the room as the night progressed.
I was new money. I was a kid. These assholes were trying to trick me out of my lunch money, and then get me to thank them for having handed it over to them.
"I think it's an untapped market -- no one goes anywhere without a phone anymore. It's more than just a tool for communication. It's a source of entertainment -- the internet, streaming videos, social media, and lastly, apps. It's a sweeping word that encompasses quite a variety of games. Some you jump in and out whenever you have a spare minute, others you can sit down in front of and glue your eyes to a screen. It all comes down to identifying what people are looking for in an undeveloped market." I said, my mouth dry because I'm pretty sure this was the tenth time I've given this same exact explanation.
I didn't really know what I was saying the first time and I didn't really know the sixth. I just knew that people liked apps, people liked waifus and husbandos, and they were willing to pay. I just made that fact sound smarter.
The old money around me sounded very impressed, despite the fact that I recognized one of them already being there for the explanation before. It was easy to see that they weren't really taking me seriously. Call it a combination of my age, my background, and my reputation -- but I felt like a monkey performing tricks for them.
And that was perfectly fine. I didn't expect it to be smooth sailing. I would have to work at it to catch the attention of the real big wigs of Gotham.
They left, I retreated to Tifa, and the game would begin again when someone approached me.
"Vergil?" Dick started, appearing after one of his little detours where everyone and their mother tried to flirt with him. I had no clue why Barbara wasn't jealous. I guess she must have just gotten used to it. Regardless, I saw Dick bring a couple over -- a woman with short blonde hair, in a purple dress… she was around her late twenties to early thirties. "I would like to introduce you to Samantha Vanaver, heir to the Vanaver family and Industries."
Samantha smiled as she offered a hand, "Charmed," she said. I'm pretty sure she expected me to kiss her hand, but I didn't. Not in front of the girlfriend and, secondly, I wasn't going to put the hands of someone I didn't know anywhere near my mouth. Especially when I knew why that name sounded familiar.
"Vergil St. Jude and this is my girlfriend, Tifa Lockhart," I introduced us both, keeping an easy smile on my face. Samantha returned it, accepting the awkward handshake, likely brushing it off as ignorance of etiquette. My eyes darted to the man she hung off of, a muscular guy with a thousand-yard stare, telling me that he had long since checked out mentally. Possibly with the aid of drugs.
I knew who she was for two reasons. Firstly, the Vanaver family was probably the second richest family in Gotham. They made their money from the railroad and coal in the eighteen hundreds, which turned to other forms of transportation and energy production. Now they were an oil powerhouse. That wasn't really important except for when it came to the second reason I knew her.
Samantha Vanaver was a member of the Court of Owls.
Not only was she a member, the form of media that I saw her in had her as the Grandmaster.
"You've been the talk of the city, Vergil. Between Two-Face and Sainthood Enterprises… not to mention, your alleged charity work," Samantha said with a smile while Dick chuckled somewhat nervously. She was the first person so far to make any reference to Lowtown and my hand in its existence. "I must say, you've accomplished a great deal in a very short span of time without help from anyone."
Why was she approaching me? Why was she buttering me up? Appearances? Or did she smell opportunity that the others were passing up? Or…
No, I should confirm that the Court of Owls even existed before thinking that she was trying to recruit me. It was entirely possible that she was completely unconnected to the Court.
"I wouldn't say I did it without any help," I deflected.
Samantha's smile widened, "From Cobblepot Industries? In the ballpark of twenty million dollars?" She questioned, her tone light, and I was very glad that no one else was in our little group, but I was certain that others were paying attention.
My smile remained on my face, "More in the sense that a lot of people working together made Lowtown what it's become," I replied without missing a beat. She knew about the connection between me and Cobblepot. That wasn't good, but at the same time, it wasn't wholly unexpected. I had said as much to Two-Face -- it was an open secret that I worked for the Penguin Mob. It had been smothered by an influx of people being ignorant, but that connection was still there if you knew where to look.
Samantha's smile widened as Tifa gripped down on my arm. "I see. I suppose that does make sense considering the population of Lowtown -- what was it? Fifteen thousand?" She questioned, her tone just as light as it had been at the start. I could feel Tifa growing tenser next to me.
"Give or take a few hundred," I agreed, smiling ever so slightly as I stared into her eyes, giving absolutely nothing away.
Then Samantha laughed lightly, "Ah, forgive me, Vergil. I only wanted to tease you a little," she said, defusing the growing tension. "Little Jason blushed and stammered, but you seem to be cut from a different cloth, it would seem." She said, smiling a smile that wouldn't look out of place on Revy's face. Dick adopted a cold, stony expression and I was glad that Jason had wandered off at some point.
"Is getting a reaction the only point to your teasing?" I questioned, my tone soft but sharp, my smile never wavering.
Samantha swirled the wine in her glass for a moment, "I believe not. You're currently a rising star in Gotham, and no one at the top enjoys another star joining our number. Cozying up to the Wayne's was a good choice, as has keeping your options open…" This felt familiar, I thought to myself. "Hm. Leave a window open, Vergil. You never know what opportunity might fly inside after you've closed a door." And with that, she just walked off to join another group of people speaking.
That had too many coincidences for my liking.
"What was that about?" Tifa muttered, a frown in her voice. I'm pretty sure I knew the answer, but I didn't voice it.
Had that been an invitation to join the Court of Owls?
My mind felt like it was being overclocked, considering all of that information and the possible implications. If I didn't already know the answer, I'm sure I'd be just as confused by the fortune cookie advice. But I did. At the very least, I was convinced that she was a member of the Court. It would also explain why she knew about my connection to Cobblepot. Actually… was it possible…?
It always struck me as odd that Cobblepot chose to leverage Sainthood Enterprises rather than my cards after only a handful of jobs. Sure, having a proxy take over a chunk of the city was nice, but I would have thought it would have been after he got his worth out of my cards.
Had that been an order? Had I somehow been right about bullshitting that I was just the pawn to a pawn, only instead of a made-up conspiracy, it was a very real one called the Court of Owls? If they had been investigating me beforehand, it made a sudden offer easier to swallow. Except for the fact it also meant that I had been watched by the Court of Owls.
I shook my head, "I have no idea," I told Tifa. It wasn't the whole truth, but I suddenly felt a lot more aware of everyone in the room. The Court was made up by Gotham's elite and old families with the occasional injection of new blood.
I let out a deep breath before I checked my watch.
It had been about thirty minutes.
Only three more hours to go.
….
This was a weird chapter. It felt like I barely started when I hit 5k words.
Comments
Forsee2
Definitely felt like only half a chapter. At least some of the bigger players in Gotham are introduced to Vergil now.
godUsoland
Vergil better be careful, or he'll wake up to a Talon stabbing him. He needs to get 2B combat ready, and create a bunch as Lowtown Guards :)
Eldar Zecore
Guess this means Vergil can’t expose Penguin until he’s exposed/taken out the Court. The only thing scarier to have after you than the Bat Family in Gotham is the Court of Owls, cause it’s bigger and more willing to kill
The Epitome of Eccentricity
RIP vergie boy
