See No Evil: No Good Deed (ch. 26) (Patreon)

"So… Waylon," I started as I unsealed a card after tossing it to the ground. "Are you sure you're… okay with this? I mean, I can find another way." I offered the massive reptilian person. We were in the metro tunnels, far off from our usual haunts, to deal with a problem that had been building for some time now.

Waylon slinked forward. He would have been invisible to me in the low light if it wasn't for a recent addition to my contacts. Everything was washed out, but I could see in the dark. Almost as if someone had jacked the gama setting in a game all the way up. It had taken some grinding over the weeks, but I had managed it.

It was for that reason that I could see him reach forward to grab the corpse I had unsealed. A dead body was a dead body, and if I could seal something then I could combine them. So, that's what I did with every body I had sealed so far. It was something I should have dealt with some time ago -- probably in Brazil, now that I thought about it, but better late than never. It had just been a risk with the Batfamily circling me. It still was, to be honest, but I needed the card emptied.

"It's fine, Vergil," Waylon said before he sent a glance back at me. "You can head back. I'm a messy eater, you know?" He pointed out, and my gaze dipped to the corpse. The full dead eyes of Jeremiah seemed to stare through me in death. Of course his body would become the template. Out of everyone I've killed so far, he was the one I knew the best.

"... Feel free to not answer the question, but…" I trailed off, not sure how to phrase it.

"Why do I eat people?" He asked, earning a hesitant nod from me. "It's more practicality than anything. It takes a lot of meat to keep me going. Humans… well, they're a full meal for me." He explained with a small shrug of his shoulders. The action brought attention to just how huge he was -- after a few months, it was something you just got used to, but Waylon was massive.

"Huh," I muttered, scratching a cheek. "Fair enough," I conceded the point. In a city like Gotham, it wasn't like he would go hungry even if he didn't make any meals himself. "So, you don't have a problem with this? I want to make sure I'm not taking advantage." I wasn't even really sure how we reached this point. Revy had made a comment in passing that I could make bodies vanish, this making me the perfect crime scene cleaner.

The conversation had spiraled until Waylon made an offer to take care of the corpse. It was better in his hands than dumping it in the bay or asking Mr. Cobblepot. Giving him a body... that was essentially giving him another bullet to use against me.

"You're good. Back when the Falcone family ran things, they used me as corpse disposal too. It worked out pretty well too, because I had been a teenager at the time and growth spurts aren't just a human thing," Waylon reassured, dismissing the issue altogether.

"If you're sure," I said, leaning against the wall. My time in Gotham forced me to get rid of my natural squeamishness, but I wasn't so desensitized that I could just watch a body getting eaten without feeling my stomach getting twisted into knots. "While I'm down here, wanted to talk a bit."

Waylon huffed over the sounds of tearing meat and the squelching of blood. I heard him swallow before answering, "Figured."

"Nothing like you're thinking. Promise," I reassured, hearing that edge in his tone. Like he was expecting me to tell him to take a hike and get lost. "Lowtown is expanding. Again," I started. Lowtown, the affectionate nickname people gave the place, was always expanding, but a month had gone by and winter was finally here in force. On good nights, the temperature only dropped into the negative twenties. Bad nights? We've hit the negative forties once already.

That, in turn, drove people to Lowtown in droves. It was shaping up to be a harsh winter, even by Gotham standards. Those that held onto hope that they wouldn't need to take that leap of faith lost that hope and took the plunge. Over the course of a month, our numbers swelled. From a thousand to closer to ten thousand. With more on the way.

"I'm going to have to do something drastic, Waylon. Otherwise, we're going to have to start turning people away," I told him. Issues that had been resolved were reappearing. Ten thousand people was a lot. A whole lot. I had proofed the systems, but they were creaking under the strain. Water was freezing in pipes, so it was an issue as well.

Waylon shifted, pausing his… meal to look at me. "What kind of drastic are we talking about? I thought things were… okay? The LG's seem to be doing alright. And nobody is wanting for anything. Well, not anything that they need." The LG were the Lowtown Guard or people that I appointed to keep the peace. And, just like how the pop swelled, so did their numbers to keep the peace.

Only problem was that I'm pretty sure all of them were varying stages of corrupt. And I knew as much because I had upped my security -- camera, microphones, absolutely everything that I could think of. Couldn't afford to do anything less now that the Batfamily was snooping. Because of that, I saw and heard the shit that didn't get reported. And the bribes that were slipped to look the other way.

I was behind the steering wheel, but in the past month, it became noticeably more difficult to steer the ship and keep sailing in the direction I wanted to.

"Not yet. And I want to make sure it stays that way," I told Waylon. "We can only fit the number of people that we are because of the tunnels. We're making space. Just not enough, and not fast enough." The entire place would be utterly screwed without my cards. Because of them, we were able to build tunnels connecting the three locations along with my building. They were still being touched up and widened, but…

It felt like I was nearing that tightrope again. Where the only choices were success and failure. I wanted to stay ahead of it. Make sure that Lowtown never walked that tightrope again.

"I'm meeting with an architect today. He's going to develop a tunnel system that we can use safely. Tell us stuff like how deep we have to go to avoid collapsing the city." I told Waylon. I had an image in my head of what they would look like. They just needed to be tweaked and changed to make them realistic. "But, there are other issues to think about. Like expanding things fast enough to accommodate everyone that comes."

"Vergil, what are you thinking? What are you asking of me?" Waylon asked, wanting to cut to the chase.

Mulling it over for a moment, I put it in as simple of terms as I could think of. "I want to get in touch with Poison Ivy," I told him bluntly and that was the last thing he seemed to expect. "And I was hoping that since you swam in the same circles, you could get me in touch with her so I wouldn't have to go to Mr. Cobblepot."

"I know you said you had to do something drastic, but that seems a little… much," Waylon remarked, and that was fair enough. "Why her?"

"Because she can control plants and that's what we need. As the tunnels grow, we're going to need fresh air. Food is also going to become an issue eventually. Just too many mouths to feed. More than that -- if she can make a few plants destroy a city, I'm certain that she could make a few tunnels and reinforce them." Ivy was the quick and… hella difficult solution. I tried in my own time to do what she did.

Like using a thumb drive filled with code on a yuca root seed. It had… sorta worked. I could make the root grow how I wanted it to in accordance to the instructions in the thumb drive. Only it was far too slow and nowhere near the scale that I needed. Other methods showed promise, but nothing on the scale that I needed. Or they were too overt -- either at risk of alerting the city, or Mr. Cobblepot.

"She also hates people," Waylon pointed out.

"That's why I want to make a deal with her," I explained. "The problem she has with people are the impact that we have on the environment. Lowtown will make concessions to reduce our carbon footprint, refuse to litter, and all that jazz. So long as no plants are harmed, then that could get our foot in the door. Then, it's about finding what she wants and giving it to her." Ivy's character had very wild portrayals.

I've done my research on her. Thoroughly. Everything that I learned about her said that she was someone who was indifferent to humans, but hated us for what we did to something she loved. She was considered an international terrorist for her role in the Injustice League, but beyond that…

Whenever Ivy attacked, before and after, her attacks were focused on industry sectors. Places that tainted the environment. If she only cared about killing humans, then all she had to do was grow some ricen and spike the water treatment plant in every city. By the time anyone learned anything was wrong, it would be far too late. Killing humans was a side effect, not the goal. Because of that, I knew it was possible to make a deal.

"If you say so," Waylon said with a shrug of his massive shoulders. "We don't keep in touch, but I know how to reach out. If you're sure about this, then I'll put the word out that you're looking to meet. You are sure about this, right?"

I nodded, "I am." Ivy had the control and the scale because of her connection with the Green. It… I didn't like the idea. Not really. Especially when I was putting trust in someone that I… well, didn't trust. But if I wanted Lowtown to become what I wanted it to become then I needed her. So, a deal had to be struck.

Waylon offered another shrug before he turned his attention back to his meal. "You're good at this, you know." He told me. I had a good idea about what he meant, but I asked anyway.

"Good at what?"

"This. Being in charge. Dealing with people," Waylon explained. I glanced over at him to see that he was chowing down on a leg. "I got a measure of you when you didn't back down when I got in your face the first time that we met. But I didn't expect you to do all of this."

I scratched the back of my head, "It's too dark to see, but I'm blushing right now." I deflected the praise with humor.

"Too dark for you maybe," Waylon returned. "I thought you had hit that level of desperation that nothing could phase you anymore. Actually felt sorry for you. Now we're here. So… I'm curious. Do you regret it?" He asked before the last bits of Jeremiah were swallowed down with a nauseating sound of flesh tearing, bones crunching, and blood squelching.

That was a question I thought about a lot. To the very first choice I made when I arrived here with nothing but my phone, and the clothes on my back. Those, and a slip of paper in my hand as I appeared before a crossroad that would either take me to Gotham or Metropolis.

"You know, I nearly went to Metropolis instead of Gotham?" I told him, earning a blink of surprise from Waylon. "I didn't know at the time. Just had a choice between left and right, so I went left. That's how I wound up here." I mulled it over -- oh, I had an absolute fuck ton of regrets. More than I cared to admit, really. "If you're asking if I would do anything differently? Then yeah. Plenty of stuff. Like not wasting time working myself to death, then getting shot. And actually having a plan for 7th heaven at the start instead of just winging it."

"But?" Waylon interjected and I flashed him a smirk.

"But I would still go left even if I had a chance to do it all over again," I finished. I had already let go of my past. I had come to accept my present. Now? It was time to embrace the future.

"Lucky us. I don't think Metropolis would suit you anyway."

…

Winter wasn't something Tifa had experienced since she left for Midgar. There, even the coldest of winters was still unbearably hot. Back in the mountains, winters had been harsh. But there seemed to be something especially harsh when it came to Gotham winters. The air seemed to cut through her layers in ways that Nibelheim never really had. Maybe she lost her resistance after a few years of city life, but Tifa doubted that.

Gotham's winters suited the city. Harsh and cruel.

"Don't take off your mittens," Tifa had to remind Cassandra as the younger woman looked down at her thick and fluffy mittens with a blank expression. Based on how she kept trying to spread her fingers or adjusting them, it was easy enough to guess what her thoughts on them were. Her dark eyes darted up to meet her gaze before she made a sign at her. And there was the obvious issue that Cass would have with them.

A month after she arrived, sign language became how she communicated with others. So, she and Vergil were learning. Along with everyone else who wanted to pick it up. Cass blew past them in regards to mastering the language, enough so that Tifa had trouble keeping up. In that month, Cassandra hadn't said a single word, and from what she heard from Vergil, Cassandra might never speak. Learning how to read was the next milestone, but Tifa agreed that Cass needed to be able to communicate easily before starting that challenge.

"I know, but your hands will freeze off if you don't," Tifa spoke the words as her hands hesitantly relayed the words. Cass looked like she had her doubts, but she stopped messing with her mittens all the same. "Are you ready?" Tifa asked and earned a nod from Cass.

With that, Tifa turned her attention to the tunnel that had once been a wall at the platform of 7th Heaven. It was fairly big -- about as wide as the metro tunnel, if not as tall. Because of that, Vergil wanted to dig down a fair bit since he was worried about collapsing a building on accident. Walking down the steps that were set up, Tifa saw that the tunnel was full of people. Tents, cardboard mats -- it was like the start of 7th Heaven all over again.

The tunnel itself looked like it was years older than it was. The tiled floor and walls were already marked with graffiti. The tasteful kind, Tifa thought when her gaze landed on a mural of Vergil. Him looking off into the distance, his gaze kind and hopeful. It was a recent one, because his hair reflected its new style. In an attempt to not look like an infant in a suit -- his words -- Vergil got a different hair cut. From an actual stylist. Short for the most part with a fringe of bangs that dropped towards one eye, while the rest was smoothed back. Underneath the mural read: Saint Vergil. Patron Saint of the Hopeless and Deadbeats.

Vergil was going to hate it. Tifa would have to convince him to let it stay up.

Tifa felt their eyes on her as she walked by with Cass. There were too many people to say she had a good relationship with most of them. She tried to be as friendly as possible, to make sure that everyone was eating three times a day and remained warm. Most were skittish and treated her with distrust, but the longer they stayed and the faster they, as Vergil said it, realized there wasn't another shoe going to drop, the more they thawed out.

It reminded her of the slums back in Midgar. Only more compact. The smell was about the same, though.

In a fraction of the time it would have taken before, Tifa reached the staircase that would take them up. Moving past a set of double doors, there was a long staircase that led even further up. Vergil mentioned he was going to put in an escalator, but for now, they had to walk. The basement itself couldn't look more different.

The ring was gone. Replaced with a checkpoint. A good twenty guards were posted, some of which were frisking down newcomers. Lockers lined one wall, and there was a couch and a TV. However, Tifa's eyes were drawn to a lamp that housed a camera and a microphone.

Vergil hadn't been kidding about his desires to beef up the security. And he wasn't done. Especially now that Batman was back in the city under the guise of Bruce Wayne. He probably wouldn't be happy until he could see the thoughts of those that entered. Maybe not even then. All of it flowed to his contacts, ready to be pulled up at a moment's notice.

"Stay warm up there," A guard said as they left the checkpoint towards the bar. Jack and his crew did really nice work. It might not have the same charm as the original 7th Heaven, but it had charm of it's own. A down to earth bar, the kind you would want to kick your feet up at after a long day. It was empty, but that was because it had yet to officially open. They had the licenses necessary, but opening in the dead of winter would look suspicious on paper. Even still the door was open for people to come and go.

Stepping outside, Tifa was hit with a bitter chill. Her poofy white jacket had been improved with those packets that warmed your hands when you shook them. It helped a fair bit, but it also made her very aware the difference between the skin that was exposed and what was covered. In front of the building was a truck with a tarp over the back. The engine was running, keeping it warm. When they approached, Jack stepped out.

He looked tired. His ratty old beanie was covered in a layer of snow, his beard was growing back out, but as tired and rough as he looked, there was an air of strength to him. That just because he was tired didn't mean it was time to rest. "We've more or less hit every house in East End and Crime Alley. This batch is for the Narrows -- are you sure that you don't want any backup or help?" Jack asked, earning a confident nod from Tifa.

"We can handle it, Jack," Tifa reassured. The doubt might have annoyed her a few years ago, but now she was just thankful. Between her and Cassandra, they didn't have anything to worry about. "Anything I should know before we head out?"

Jack nodded, "Yeah. Vergil called it -- people are stealing the heaters and scalping them." Tifa frowned, really wishing that Vergil had been wrong in this case. People would steal anything in this city. Including top quality space heaters. In the middle of winter.

"Talk to him about plan B. We'll increase the number we give away until the things are worthless to gangs," Tifa ordered. They would flood the black market that sprouted. The gangs wouldn't make a penny scalping space heaters when every family had ten. Jack flashed her a grin -- she got the impression that he enjoyed sticking it to gangs in general. Now that they were targeting poor people that just wanted to survive the winter?

It would be a lie that she didn't feel the same.

With a farewell, she and Cassandra got in the truck before heading to the narrows. Gotham almost looked pretty when it was smothered in a layer of snow. It added a romantic air to the city. If you ignored everything else. The Narrows was a section of the city adjacent to East End. It was easy to tell when they arrived, because the buildings got rougher and rougher. It was the kind of place where you didn’t walk alone at night, and pepper spray wouldn’t cut it so you needed a gun.

She pulled off and parked the car, then she and Cassandra got out. Peeling off the tarp revealed a small space heater that was deceptively powerful. Each one was improved with Vergil’s cards at the cost of eating up electricity. Grabbing one, Tifa picked a building and knocked on the front door.

There was no answer, but that didn’t surprise her. “I’m from Lowtown, and we’re giving away heaters. No cost and no strings attached. I know how that sounds, but we just don’t want anyone to freeze to death.” Tifa said loudly, her voice carrying before she put the heater down. “We’ll stop by later. If you need extra, then all you have to do is tell us how many.” There was still no response. It could be an abandoned house, but Tifa doubted that.

Jack had thirty years of living on the streets under his belt. He knew every trick there was. Abandoned buildings were filled to the brim with squatters. There were even people living in the sewers -- groups like Jack’s had been before the Jokers. So, Tifa knew that the heater would be gone when she came back.

Cassandra took the next heater to another building on the other side of the street as they made their way down the block. They would have to hit the area again. A couple of times, really. This was more to get the message out there -- people would see that the heaters worked, and Lowtown was giving them out for free and that they could ask for more.

It might even undo the rumors that they're a human chop shop. Vergil thought it would make the rumors worse, but Tifa had faith he was wrong.

They reached the end of the block with little issue besides the cold. Most people were indoors because of the cold. It was bad enough that even the gang war in East End was mostly on pause. But, in the time that they were out, they hadn't gone unnoticed. A woman stood at the corner, a cigarette in between her fingers as she huddled into herself. Her jacket looked warm, just old, but not enough to completely ward off the chill.

When their eyes met, Tifa saw the signs of makeup covering a black eye. The woman looked away sharply, but Tifa approached anyway, another heater in her hands. The crunch of snow alerted the woman, who watched her approach cautiously. "Would you like a heater?"

The woman's eyes darted down, "You're from Lowtown?" She asked, likely hearing Tifa shouting. "That place is actually real?"

Tifa offered a nod and a smile, "It is. You can reach it by heading into a bar called Stairway and ask to head down." The woman openly showed an expression of doubt. It had really bothered her at the start, but Tifa had learned to expect it. "I'm Tifa, by the way. And that's Cass. And this," Tifa continued, dropping the heater at her feet, "is your new heater. You'll need it, standing in the cold like this."

The woman blew out some smoke, eyeing Cass as she near soundlessly approached. "Just giving them away, huh? Wish I had money like that. I can't even afford the electricity bill that thing will cost me to use." The woman responded, looking down at the heater with almost longing eyes.

"Didn't you hear? Bruce Wayne said he's covering the electric bills for all the low-income housing in the city," Tifa told her. She knew that Vergil didn't like Batman. Or, rather, he was afraid of him… with good reason, for the most part. But it was hard to dislike the man with a stunt like that. "That's why we're just handing out heaters. So, use it as much as you want until winter ends. Bruce Wayne is footing the bill."

Tension eased out of the woman. "Thank God for that man," she muttered, taking a deep drag of her cigarette. "He might be an idiot, but without him, Gotham would just…" she couldn't even finish the sentence. That was the impression that Tifa got of Bruce Wayne. Setting aside his secret identity of probably being Batman -- he wanted to do good. He wanted to make Gotham a better place.

And… Tifa didn't like how they had to be afraid of him. She trusted that Vergil had the situation in hand, but what did it say about them if they were enemies with a hero?

"Samantha. My friends call me Sammy," Sammy introduced herself. "Thanks for the heater, Tifa. And Cass. And Saint Vergil too." The nickname was spreading. Probably to the point that Vergil wasn't going to be able to shake it off. Good. Tifa rather liked it.

Cass started to sign, only to stop to glare at her mittens. It was easy to guess what she wanted to ask, though.

"Nice to meet you, Sammy," Tifa started, "but what are you doing out here?" She wanted to ask about the eye but knew better.

Sammy offered a shrug, "Working. Trying to, at least." Ah.

"In the middle of winter?" Tifa questioned, eyeing the roads. There was the occasional car and people did venture outside, but…

Sammy finished off her cigarette, "Winter is always slow, so most of us girls rely on our regulars when it gets bad. But a few of mine got pinched by the law… might have not been so bad if my new pimp hadn't shown up," she added bitterly. "He's a real asshole. Takes half of everything, smacks us around -- moron doesn’t even know enough to not go for the face."

Tifa's lips thinned, "He put you out here?" She questioned, an edge in her tone. Prostitution was hardly a novel concept to Tifa. There was at least one brothel per sector in the Slums. In sector Six, the entire sector was basically one big one. It was something that always hit a little close to home.

If she hadn't taken martial arts lessons when she was a kid, she wouldn't have had the skills to make alternatives for herself when she arrived in Midgar. She wouldn't have been able to join the Watch, take contracts, and do odd jobs to make enough gil so she could open up her own bar. It was a common story, almost to the point of being a cliche -- a pretty country girl comes to the big city to make it big, but doesn’t. Then when money dries up, the only thing she can sell is herself.

"Yup. Wasn't bringing in enough, so he put me on the corner to find new Johns," Sammy answered, taking out another cigarette and lighting it up. Cass glanced at Tifa -- she hadn't understood a single word, Tifa knew that. So Tifa's indignant anger must have shown. And not just to Cass. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. Idiots like him don't last long anyway. Either he'll wisen up, or he'll get bumped off."

It was good to have hope. It was better to do something about it. "Okay… how about this -- you charge us for a couple of hours of your time, we can head back to Lowtown so you can see that it's the real deal." And Tifa could bring Sammy to Vergil.

In the end, Vergil had a lot on his plate, and Tifa wasn't looking to adding more to it. So, what she was going to do would be for her to take care of. Everything would just go smoother if Vergil knew and approved -- which he would. For all Vergil's talk of being selfish, he seemed relentlessly determined to help everyone that came to him for help.

Sammy cocked an eyebrow, "I didn't take you for the type." Sammy remarked, "But is she over eighteen? I don't touch minors."

Tifa knew that she was just teasing, but Tifa flushed anyway. "No, not for sex. I'll just pay you to hang out for a couple of hours," Tifa corrected. "I can do that, right?"

"Happens all the time," Sammy agreed. "Johns are lonely, for the most part. So they pay to not feel alone. Usually, it's for sex, but I've been paid to play video games all night long before." That sounded like a story. "But I don't come cheap. Are you sure you want to do that, Tifa?"

In response, Tifa offered a smile, "I'm sure." She responded simply. Sammy searched her gaze, looking for that other shoe that was going to drop. But there wasn't one. And, in time, Tifa had faith that people would learn that when they dealt with Lowtown. "The truck is parked down the road-"

Tifa cut herself off when she turned around to look behind her, only to find that the truck was gone. Vanished. Only a set of tire tracks marking that it had been there at all, and the only lead on who had stolen it. Along with the heaters that had been in the back.

No good deed in Gotham went unpunished, it would seem.

But, it was about time people learned that bad deeds got punished as well.