See No Evil: Moving Up (ch. 28) (Patreon)

"You look the part, kid," Mr. Cobblepot informed me when I stepped into his office. He sat at the head of a long table, similar to the one that had been there when I stumbled here, shot a few times, but with drugs and money. "Never thought you'd get rid of that travesty of a haircut," he remarked, prompting me to reach up to make sure that the gel on my hair was still in place.

He was right though. My cheap, ill-fitted suit had been replaced with a tailored one. A wine-red dress shirt, and a black tie that matched my blazer and pants. My dress shoes shone, and with the upgraded arch support sole in them, I might as well have been wearing slippers. All of that together along with a coat that went down to my knees, I was snug as a bug in the chilling weather.

I had to look the part now. 7th Heaven was Lowtown now. I was a CEO of a company -- Sainthood Flowers was blossoming because of the cocaine business, Sainthood Construction was getting small-time contracts now… the real money maker, however, was Sainthood Entertainment -- where I more or less copy-pasted game design and called it my own. In the past month, what was the initial boost in sales was me laundering some of my money, but the action brought attention to a gacha game, so it was climbing the charts in popularity.

So, I had to get rid of the hair and adopt a more professional style that I slicked back with some gel. I didn't look half bad, really. I just barely recognized myself when I looked in a mirror.

"I figured I couldn't look like a punk kid forever," I admitted with a shrug. Candy appeared in the corner of my eye, her hands outstretched to take my coat. "Oh, thanks," I told her, letting her take it. I didn't keep anything important in it -- my deck was in my pockets, with a card each tucked underneath my black leather gloves to easily summon my deck. My contacts were in and recording everything that I saw.

Mr. Cobblepot gestured to a chair directly to his right at the head of the table. I hesitated to walk over, the symbolism of the action not lost on me. Still, it wasn't something I could refuse. Walking over, Tracy pulled out the chair for me and pushed it in when I took a seat in a chair that should be reserved for Mr. Cobblepot's right-hand man. I shifted in my chair while Mr. Cobblepot spared me a look.

"It's good you're looking the part. If you showed up here dressed in your usual look, I would have had to hand you over to Candy and Tracy for a makeover," he warned, a chuckle in his tone, but warning bells were ringing.

"I'm sure they could make me look better than I should," I hedged, meeting Mr. Cobblepot's gaze. "Is there a reason that would have been a problem? A problem bad enough that you would have had to take action?"

Mr. Cobblepot nodded as he leaned back into his seat. "It's a big day today, Vergil," he informed. I had guessed as much by the emergency meeting request that he sent out. I had to clear my schedule and cancel a few meetings to be here. "And it's important that when they walk through the door that they see you more than just a punk kid. Perception matters, until you're so damn powerful that it doesn't. You're not there yet. If all they see is a kid playing grown-up, then they're going to eat you alive."

My lips thinned at the warning, "It's a business meeting?" I hazarded a guess -- it made the most sense. I had interacted with the upper management a handful of times, working with Mr. Wake most of all. But I had never taken a seat at the table, though. Much less at the seat right of Mr. Cobblepot. "What changed?"

"You did," Mr. Cobblepot pot stated as if it was obvious, a huff in his voice… but his eyes were as sharp as a naked blade. "Lowtown is the talk of the town. Earned yourself a fair bit of goodwill with the heater move -- smart." I straightened a bit at the praise, all the while my mind raced.

Mr. Cobblepot rarely ever mentioned my side stuff. He knew about it of course. He just rarely mentioned it. Probably because Lowtown had yet to make a profit, so he probably just didn't have any interest in it. If anything, it was costing me more money than it ever had before. I still had wiggle room, and my other projects were balancing things out, but from a financial standpoint, Lowtown was a bottomless black hole. I had assumed that until it turned a profit that he would remain uninterested.

"I had to get our reputation out of the red somehow," I hedged, not really sure where this was going. The ideas that I had weren't ones that I liked the thought of.

Mr. Cobblepot nodded, "And you got Bruce Wayne to foot the bill. I like it. That arrogant shmuck always did think thought he was the crowned prince of the city. I bet that'll be a nice little surprise for him when the bill comes," he said with a dark chuckle.

I very much doubted that. The amount of money that Bruce Wayne has is utterly obscene. I'm sure to most that having a several million dollar electricity bill would be an unwelcome surprise, but given who he was… my bet was that he would just be happy that people were warm during winter. At least, that's what I was counting on.

I glanced over at the empty table and the still-closed doors. I had been told that this was an emergency meeting, but I was feeling a little singled out. Part of me suspected it was to give Candy and Tracy time to give me a makeover like Mr. Cobblepot had said, but… at the same time, I couldn't believe that Mr. Cobblepot didn't have spies in Lowtown. I was fishing them out, having identified countless other 'spies' over the past month since my security improved. Some were just passing info along in exchange for a warm meal or some cash. Others were more dedicated infiltrators.

"Sir, I hope you don't mind me asking, but what is the meeting about?" I questioned him, looking back at Mr. Cobblepot. He failed to answer for a minute as he chose to drag out the silence by taking out a cigar, cutting it, having Candy light it, and taking a few puffs… and only then did he so much as look in my direction.

"Nervous?" He questioned, and his tone told me that I should be.

"I'd be a liar if I said that I wasn't," I admitted, earning a smirk sharp enough to cut. I was nervous. I just didn't know how nervous I should be. I didn't seem to be in any deep water based on the fact I was sitting at his right, but that could just be a ploy to lure me into a false sense of security.

Mr. Cobblepot puffed at his cigar, choosing to drag out the suspense to an almost painful degree. I refused to squirm as he stared me down, keeping my expression blank. That just seemed to make his smirk grow into a smile. "Word of advice? Keeping a neutral expression is the hardest thing you can do. It's easier to fake an emotion than neutrality -- in this line of business, your best bet is confidence." He advised, telling me that he had seen through me.

“... Thank you, sir,” I caved, but didn’t try it out. It would have been painfully fake to act like I was confident now when my footing was so unsure.

“That’s what I’m here for kid,” Mr. Cobblepot lied, thumbing off some ash into an ashtray. “But, you are right. I did call you here for a specific reason. I wanted some answers to a couple of questions I’ve had crop up.” I might not have appeared confident, but I made damn sure that any trace of nervousness I felt never showed on my face. This was an interrogation. I had been lured into a trap.

It was just a question of what kind of trap.

“I’ll answer any that you have, sir,” I replied instantly, earning an approving nod. That was good. Given the situation and the fact that we were mostly alone, this didn’t seem like a hostile interrogation. If it was, then there would be more people in the room. Candy and Tracy were likely armed, but if it came down to it, then I was reasonably certain that I could take a shot at all three of them. I might not live through it when I had to fight my way out of the building, but I had a hard time imagining Mr. Cobblepot putting himself in a situation where I could kill him if he was expecting me to.

Mr. Cobblepot took a deep breath from his cigar, savoring the taste before he released it as a long sigh. “Lowtown is in a prime position to take over East End. You have the numbers, and that little LG gang that’s sprouting up is all the muscle that you could need. So, I’m curious why my favorite little hustler isn't showing any initiative?”

It wasn’t like I could tell him that it was because the bat family was circling like vultures. And as far as opening questions went, it wasn’t a bad one. I had an answer ready, “For a few reasons -- Right now, my reputation is that I do good for goodness sake-” I started, earning a smile from Tracy.

“Like Santa?” She remarked, sounding very amused by the comparison. That reminded me that Christmas was coming up.

“Like Santa,” I agreed. “And I wasn’t sure if I should. After the Blackgaters fell from grace, it was a madhouse in East End. When the Bat-family brought in outside help, that convinced me it was better to let sleeping dogs lie for a time. That, and I wasn’t sure if you would want me to, and how taking over a part of the city might look. I thought about asking,” I lied, “but I thought that would be a bad look for me.”

I was millions in debt to him, and I worked for him. Me carving out my own territory could look like I was planning to break away from the mob. Which I was, but he didn’t need to know that. Mr. Cobblepot seemed to consider that for a few moments, puffing at his cigar as he did so, so I continued.

“In this case, I thought it would be better to get told to do it than ask for permission… much less ask for forgiveness,” I added. It did mean I missed an opportunity to sweep East End up, which could be problematic. I had no real aspirations for it, but it could be a problematic look for me.

Mr. Cobblepot thumbed off some ash, “That was… a good call,” he allowed, and it was impossible to hide how the tension eased out of me. “You knew your place and you knew when to act.” He offered the complement -- part of me was suspicious at that, but it was a good thing that he wasn’t grilling me on it. “If you went ahead and started conquering… ah, well, let’s not worry about that, shall we?” He dismissed, a chuckle rising from him.

By that, he meant that we would be having a very different conversation.

“Question number two is more of a statement -- you need to separate your identities,” Mr. Cobblepot decided for me. “Saint Vergil is becoming too public a figure. When winter ends and the reporters feel like it's warm enough to start doing their jobs again, they’ll be hounding your every step. Snooping into everything that you do.”

I nodded, having thought as much. “I’ve been wearing a mask on the job, but the people here know me.”

“Make sure that they forget you,” Mr. Cobblepot continued. “Space will help. After today, I don’t want you here in person. If I need to speak to you, I’ll give you a location to meet at. It’s better for the both of us if Saint Vergil remains a Saint, as it were.” He had a plan, I realized. And it revolved around me. That wasn’t very surprising. If anything, I saw this coming from a mile away.

As far as Mr. Cobblepot was concerned, he owned me. I built Lowtown from the ground up, and it was becoming something amazing. I had plans and ideas, and it was only going to get better from here. “As far as people are concerned, we don’t know each other. We’ve never met and we’ve never spoken. Cobblepot Industries and Sainthood Enterprises have no connection to each other.”

“But?” I added, earning a toothy smirk from Mr. Cobblepot in response. This was… good and bad. Space meant I had a little more slack in my leash. It also meant I couldn’t record evidence of Mr. Cobblepot’s wrongdoings and use them as blackmail.

“Under a mask and under the table, I want you to give me East End,” He decided, telling me the real reason that he wanted me here. “I don’t care how you do it. Just use the resources that you’ve been piling up.”

I leaned back into my chair, mulling that over. It would be a lie to say that I saw this coming, but it didn’t surprise me in the slightest. He was right -- I needed to figure out how to make sure that Saint Vergil and Lowtown were never connected to what I had to do. Wearing a mask on the job was a start. An idea in the beginning was to use the LG to make sure that Lowtown remained a neutral zone like the clinic did, but I didn’t want the LG to be seen as a gang.

What I needed… was a figurehead. A puppet gang separate from the LG. Ideally, it would be someone other than me, because the Batfamily had already made those connections. As cliche as it sounded, I would be the guy standing behind in the shadows. And as far as Mr. Cobblepot was concerned, he would be the one standing behind me. I would be a proxy for him to control East End.

"Alright. Do you have a timeframe that you want it done in?" I responded, seeing Candy smirk before wiping it away. I glanced at her, then at Mr. Cobblepot to see him grinning like a shark that smelled blood in the water. For a split second, I thought I answered wrong before he started cackling as he puffed on his cigar.

"I like the can-do attitude, Vergil. I really do," Mr. Cobblepot stated, sounding like he actually meant that. I guess I saw why -- I did just kinda brush off the fact that I would have to take control of a significant portion of the city. For good reason -- if I felt like taking East End through force, then I could. And if I had to, then I would. "No timeframe. I just want it done."

I nodded, considering my options. I was not looking to be overt. Lowtown was meant to be more than the home turf of a gang, and I was already under too much scrutiny -- have a recording of Mr. Cobblepot giving me the order might soothe some bat feathers, but I doubt any goodwill and rapport I've built up would last if I became a crime lord.

No matter how I looked at it, proxies were my best bet. People that wouldn't be connected to me. To that end, I could start a gang from scratch, or I could own one of the bottom feeders that were trying to muscle in on Lowtown. Blackmail or something. The former was more appealing, but I wasn't sure where to start.

From there, I could use the proxy gang as a faux ally of sorts. Lowtown would be neutral by virtue of defending itself. The gang would be the sword that I used to destroy its enemies.

Mr. Cobblepot thumbed off his cigar, "Think on it some other time. For now, we have other business to discuss," he informed, breaking me from my thoughts. "You won't be here for the real meeting, so I'll break the news now -- Two-Face broke out of Arkham last night. Hasn't made the news yet, but it will."

My eyes widened a fraction as the revelation. I… that shit actually happened? It was the first time since I've arrived in Gotham that anyone escaped Arkham. I knew the place had a revolving door, but with no news of the place, I figured the comics exaggerated it. After all, how would there be any stories if Batman's villains were all already incarcerated? "What does that mean for us?"

"It means that Batman is going to be distracted," he answered. "He always focuses on those freakshows, leaving good businessmen like ourselves alone in the meantime." Mr. Cobblepot said with a knowing smirk, giving the distinct impression that the reason he knew that Two Face was out was because he had something to do with it. "First, do something with that information. Secondly, the Penguin Mob will be going to war."

That was quite the casual declaration of war. "With who?"

To that, Mr. Cobblepot shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. A lesson for you -- reputation is everything, but even the best and greatest fade with time. People move on, their memories dim and then they start to forget. When they forget, you end up with punks with big ideas thinking that they can hit your fronts or steal from you."

I hadn't heard anything like that through the grapevine, but with how compartmentalized the mob was, I guess that wasn't a surprise. Or, as he said, this was a preventative measure.

"Mopping up a small-time gang and taking everything that they have? That's just a reminder to everyone else why you're on top and they're on the bottom," he finished, punctuating the statement by taking a deep drag of his cigar.

I took the lesson to heart.

There was a small lull before Candy stepped forward, "It's almost time, Mr. Cobblepot," she informed. He nodded before he made a dismissive gesture to me. Taking that as my cue I stood up, and the moment I had, Tracy had my coat at the ready. Sliding it back on and straightening it out, I looked down at Mr. Cobblepot.

"Thank you for the lesson, Mr. Cobblepot," I told him honestly. And I really meant it too.

Because that's what this entire meeting had been. A reminder that he was at the top. He called me up, made me drop everything that I was doing, so I could answer some questions that he could have asked me over the phone. He was making sure that I didn't get a big head. That I wasn't entertaining thoughts of breaking off with Lowtown and having that be that. More than that, he ordered me to take East End with my own resources… showing me that as far as I should be concerned, my resources were his resources.

I offered a nod before I started walking out of the office. As I left, Mr. Cobblepot spoke up. "I'm serious about the identity bit, kid. This house of cards comes crumbling down the moment that the head of East End is connected to Saint Vergil."

That much, I could do.

…

Hours later, and I was looking down at a design that might as well be a work of art for how beautiful they were. A tunnel system.

"I would like to remind you, that any such system would have to be approved by the city. Starting without a permit is highly illegal," the architect informed me. There were several pages, but the complete one was a thing of beauty. I could only imagine what they would be like when I saw them materialized.

It was a tunnel system that stretched the length of Gotham. An inverse city, almost. There were main highways that other tunnels would link up to. There were inverse blocks for residential and commercial. There were points of recommended surface points to control and spread out the traffic. There were locations that I could set up systems that would generate our own electricity and water.

The tunnels had to be deep, but they were wide. Huge, even. Enough that they could be a mockery of the streets above -- a road where transportation could come and go, and houses on the sides. The biggest could only be two stories tall, but that was still two stories tall.

They were everything I needed to set up a completely self-sufficient… colony underneath Gotham city.

"So is taking a bribe," I responded, feeling light as a feather. I slid over a stack of bills, which the architect wasted no time scooping up, almost afraid that I would take it back. Ripping him off might have left my pockets flushed, but that wasn’t what I was going for. Plus, they were worth every penny. Rolling them up and sliding them into a tube, I capped it, then I sealed them in a card after leaving the office.

Revy was standing outside of it, smoking directly under a no smoking sign. Looking over, she cocked an eyebrow, “You look awfully chipper. Already figure out how to take over the city?” She asked, earning a scoff from me as we started heading out of the building.

"Not even close," I told Revy. I didn't have a time limit on the task, it was just something that had to be done. Or, so said Mr. Cobblepot, but I knew if I didn't start to make progress relatively soon, then the next sit down we had wouldn't go so smoothly. "And just part of the city."

Revy scoffed as we got in the car with me behind the wheel. She shot me a dirty look from the passenger seat, "I thought big wigs didn't bother driving themselves? Especially when they drive like you do." She remarked, putting her feet up on the dash.

"I might drive like a pussy, but I don't drive like a maniac. We're back in Gotham now," I rebuked lightly, before pulling out. It was tempting to just hand her the wheel and kick my feet up. I hated driving in general, but the cold weather took care of the worst of the traffic. Though, it did mean that there was ice on the roads, but road salts were added to combat the problem.

Revy huffed before falling silent for a few moments. "Well? What are you going to do?" She questioned, sparing me a glance. It was a loaded question. "Are you really going to take over East End?"

That was the question, wasn't it? "Don’t really get a say in the matter," I admitted. It was an order from the man at the top. Things had changed a great deal for me, but not enough that I could brush off an order like that.

But I did have options. A well-placed word to Jason, and Mr. Cobblepot becomes the focus of the Batfamily. That would be perfect for my needs.

"What is it?" Revy asked, sensing that something was bothering me.

"Up until this point, my value to Mr. Cobblepot has been my cards. The trip to Brazil just proved what he already knew. But instead of sending me on more trips, instead, he's putting distance between us and having me take over part of the city," I explained, earning a frown from Revy. "Things have clearly changed -- now my value seems to come from being a proxy for him rather than my cards. He's maneuvering me to be in a position of power."

His right-hand man, based on where I had sat.

Right now, the only connection I had with the mob was my debt. I pay it off, and we were done. So, why was he putting me in control of a significant portion of the city? With the resources available to me if I did manage to take over East End -- I could pay off my debt in a few weeks. No, if the resources I had gathered hitting the Blackgaters were anything to go by, then I would be able to pay it off before I rose to power.

"There's a trap somewhere," I mused aloud. There had to be. Mr. Cobblepot wouldn't let the strings he had on me be severed so easily. Not when I've proven I could be the world's best smuggler, and when I about to take control of a portion of the city.

Revy shrugged, "To me, it sounds like he's counting on that blackmail he has on you. It was useful before, but now you're becoming a public figure, it's value ramped up." She pointed out, and that was a fine point.

"Maybe," I hedged. I had blackmail of my own now. It wasn't as ironclad as a video of me murdering a man, but it was adding up to be enough that I was confident that he would back down. Maybe it was time that I started being more active in my attempts to cut the strings that Mr. Cobblepot had on me. Though, given the position that he had just put me in, maybe it was also the worst time.

He would be suspecting something. Expecting me to make that move. In a way, this just might be another loyalty test. I had kept my mouth shut even when there was a gun to my head. Now he was seeing if I would remain loyal if I had power handed to me.

We drove back to Lowtown in silence, Revy leaving me alone to think about the next step that we would take. It was another balancing act. Despite my best efforts, Lowtown was teetering on the edge of that tightrope again. I had my priorities, but I also had my orders.

At the very least, I had to be seen making progress. One thing was for certain, I would be doing my best to make sure that I dropped a tip through Jason. Something about Cobblepot forcing my hand now that I had built a foundation for myself. I had to be seen making progress, but I couldn’t be seen pulling at my leash.

We arrived at Stairway not long after. Getting out of the car, we made our way down to the man-made tunnel. It was packed with people, and the smell was getting so bad that I needed to invest in air fresheners to avoid the stench of hundreds of unwashed bodies drifting up to the bar. Eyes were on us, but I ignored them. Just like I ignored the art of my face spray-painted on the wall. Though, Revy thought differently.

“If only they added your stupid-looking style now,” Revy remarked, reaching out and thoroughly messing up my gelled look. I batted her hands away as we headed to 7th Heaven and scoffed.

“You mispronounced suave and sexy,” I bantered back. We went back and forth before we arrived at the first and best cared for of the shelters. It was the largest by far, and the most prepared for the influx of people we received. The others were less known, but word of 7th Heaven had made the rounds before Pitstop or Lucky 13 had a chance to.

Jack was at the counter, waving us over. “Tifa and Sammy are back. They’re waiting in your bedroom,” he informed, earning a nod from me before I started to head towards the train car. However, I hesitated a moment when Revy went to wander off. Shrugging off my coat, I pulled back the collar.

Revy looked over and her eyes narrowed into slits when she saw what was on the underside. Something I had suspected to be there, but really wished wasn’t. It was a thin piece of fabric that almost blended into the underside of the collar. Something that hadn’t been there when I put it on. And it was all too easy to guess how it got there.

“Would you mind putting that up for me in my office upstairs? I don’t want anyone to nick it,” I told her, earning a curt nod from Revy. We hadn’t discussed anything that Cobblepot didn’t expect us to. The answers I gave all pointed to me being a dutiful minion that had some understandable reservations. Nothing that would work against me.

Jack gave me a look, but said nothing when I offered a lopsided smirk. “Hazards of the job,” I remarked before I headed to the train car that served as my bedroom. In the past month, despite people needing the room, it had undergone some renovations. To start with, it had been vacated. Everyone that once lived there cleared out -- most of which now lived in the building that I owned.

As the door swung open, I saw the others -- the benches and handrails were removed. Shelving was being added despite the starting batch still being bare. On the far end was a bed that Tifa got me with the backboard against the far wall. In place of one of the benches was a drop-down table that Tifa and Sammy were seated at. A bit of worry that I had felt released its grip on my heart when I saw they were both okay.

“Cass wander off?” I questioned, trying to get my hair back in order, but it was a lost cause. Tifa nodded.

“She saw a performer dancing in the tunnel and she wouldn’t leave,” Tifa answered. That sounded familiar -- didn’t Cass have a thing with ballet in comics? I should have remembered that sooner.

Sammy looked up at me with obvious apprehension. Tifa reached out and patted her hand, but she looked up at me with a similar grim expression. I scratched at a shaven cheek, looking between them. “I’m guessing the trip got complicated?” I questioned, not finding another reason why either of them would look at me like that.

Tifa offered a wan smile. “A little,” she said, confirming as much. I should have figured.

I let out a small sigh as I unbuttoned my blazer and took it off, leaving me in just my wine-red dress shirt and a tie. “What kind of complicated?” I questioned, undoing my tie as well. The suit was comfortable, but it was more comfortable as a casual look. Leaning up against the wall, Sammy looked at Tifa for reassurance.

Tifa straightened out, “We… might have a bit of a problem with the Street Kings ,” she informed. “We got the heaters back, and the car can be fixed… but… well,” she trailed off, her slight smile becoming a hell of a lot more hesitant. Not a good sign.

“But?”

“But… we had a talk with them. The current boss’s mother. She seems to want to meet you, but the rest of the gang… I think that they might try to attack us,” she informed, earning a slow nod from me.

A question was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. If they were going to attack, then why didn’t she do something about it already? Between her and Cassandra, a bunch of thugs shouldn’t have been a problem.

“There’s also something else that I wanted to speak to you about,” Sammy spoke up, swallowing thickly as she looked up at me. I met her gaze and gestured for her to continue. She took a moment, trying to put her thoughts into words before she spoke. “The Street Kings, they treat us working girls like crap. I met Tifa after my pimp beat the hell out of me, and put me on the corner in zero degree weather.”

Ahh… I knew exactly where this was going.

“This place? This place is something else. You people give a shit about people like me. So… I want to bring the girls from the Street Kings, and I want us to work for you,” Sammy decided, meeting my gaze evenly. I held it for a moment before it slid to Tifa, wondering if she was in on this. She clearly was. Actually, this was probably her idea.

And if the Street Kings didn’t want to attack us before, then they certainly would then.

I considered it before I shrugged, “Alright,” I agreed easily. Sammy blinked at that, her eyes narrowing before she glanced at Tifa, clearly suspicious. Even Tifa looked at me with similar suspicion.

“You don’t have any questions?” Tifa pressed, earning a smirk from me.

“Oh, plenty,” I corrected. “But, I can guess most of the answers. And, in the end, Lowtown exists to help people that need it. That doesn't just apply to the homeless,” I said. Tifa gave me an absolutely radiant smile and I knew I just scored major boyfriend points. Sammy looked at me like I had grown a second head, but that slowly bled away. I looked at Tifa, “You’ll be in charge of this, yeah?”

Tifa nodded seriously, “I’ll take care of it and all the girls,” she swore. Details would need to be ironed out, but-

A video feed appeared before my eyes, showing me an alert viewing of a camera that was pointed at the entrance of Stairway. A woman with vibrant red hair, faint greenish skin, and a flowing red dress that would do nothing to ward off the chill. I knew exactly who she was. It was impossible not to.

Of course Poison Ivy, a renowned misanthropist, would arrive the same minute I indirectly became a pimp.