See No Evil: Foundations (ch. 46) (Patreon)

A little time could change a lot of things. A surprising amount of things. The dominoes had been lined up and knocked over, and in the past two weeks, I had been feeling the aftermath. So had Lowtown. Especially Lowtown. In the end, I couldn't have possibly foreseen every possible reaction to the news of Lowtown being real, my press release, Batman deciding to use me to take down Cobblepot, becoming a multibillionaire, or having billions worth or real estate under my control.

People were surprising. You couldn't always know what they were going to do. Maybe Batman could foresee every possible reaction and plan accordingly, but I couldn't. So, I didn't try. I guesstimated the best that I could, I prepared for the absolute worse, then I took it from there. It didn't always work. But I've gotten pretty good at turning a situation around so I gain something from it.

"Everything is going according to the timeline. No deviations to speak of. But, given that it's him, I’m taking every precaution that I can and then some, Mr. Cobblepot," I spoke, leaning back into my chair as I watched a server setup being installed in the old abandoned water treatment plant in the swamps. The same one that the Talon had vanished to after granting me my three favors. The servers had been stolen by what had once been Two-Face's mob, then exchanged hands a few times, before going through a shell company that had once belonged to Cobblepot, before he used me as a proxy to avoid any connection to him.

It sounded like Cobblepot let out a deep breath after taking a drag of his cigar. "Good," he said before he ended the call. He had been testy for weeks now, but that was my fault. Cobblepot was hiding the evidence that he had lost control over his fortune and his shell companies rather well, I had to admit. If I hadn't been the one to steal it all from him, I wouldn't be any the wiser.

For the most part, he acted like nothing was wrong and continued with business as usual. He gave orders, his men carried them out, he collected his cut, and he stashed the money away. That being said, he was being cautious. Extremely so. The twenty-five million I gave him hadn't been stashed in his vault, and I was starting to doubt that it would. He also had me setting up the backup servers while he had four others doing the same, each in a different location without the others being aware that there were other servers.

It was a trap to snuff out a traitor or someone with more ambition than loyalty. But, because I had bugged his office and home, I knew exactly where those servers were. So… I had my fall guy when Cobblepot decided to kill the pre-established backup server and transfer the data to one of the backups. The others would get false data. I had no clue who would be who until it happened, but no matter what, I would have access to the backup server.

Pod 042 was a blessing in that regard. In the end, he was a support unit for a war against machines that had been waged for over ten thousand years. His hacking programs and skills were completely on another level. I made sure to exploit that fact ruthlessly. The moment that Cobblepot made that transfer, I would have administrator access to his data.

And once Cobblepot felt safe, like he had slipped the noose? I would be there to tighten it around his neck so Batman could hang him. Metaphorically speaking. Or… maybe not.

"Should I use a favor?" I questioned, pursing my lips in thought. Cobblepot was shaping up to be a very dangerous loose end. Depending on how this went down, he could flip on me. The moment that he realized that I had been the one to bring him down, he would scream from the heavens every piece of dirt he had on me. And that was a risk I couldn't afford. I was in the position that I was in because I had confessed to a surface layer of my crimes. If Batman discovered just how deep the rabbit hole went, this house of cards would crumble.

Ideally, I needed to remove Cobblepot from the board in a way that made him think I was still his ally. That way, he wouldn't want to flip the table on me.

Failing that… I needed to kill him. I needed to do it in a way that had no connection to me. The Court was the best choice for it because they could make it look like a business partner killed him to protect their own interests.

The latter was the most practical solution. The former was the ideal one. I put a pin in both -- I still had time to decide and see what I could manage. After all, stringing along Batman by feeding him evidence piece by piece and using Cobblepot as a shield worked in my best interest. I was playing a dangerous game. A very dangerous one… but I had been since I first set foot in Gotham. The only thing that changed were the stakes.

I shook my head, tabling the issue for now. As if to agree with me, my phone rang. Like it had every minute of every day for the past week. Pressing the answer button, I smiled. "Miss Vanaver, it's good to hear from you," I opened the conversation with. The Grandmaster of the Court of Owls smiled to herself, clearly pleased that I had a favorable opinion of her public identity. Or, at least she thought I did.

My opinion of her was that she wasn't particularly what I imagined the grandmaster of an ancient secret society would be like, but given that it was a position that had been inherited, it made more sense.

"Good evening, Mr. St. Jude. Circumstances have changed a great deal for you since we last spoke," she noted, a laugh in her voice. I imagine she got as big of a kick out of the doublespeak as I did. Only it was a lot more fun when the other person didn't know that you had an alternate identity. "I'm surprised you have the time to take personal calls."

She was doing the same thing that I did. The Court told me to have my phone close to receive a call at this time. Vanaver was pretending like she hadn't personally given me that order while acting like she was unconnected to the Court. The fact that I knew that she was drove home how dangerous the game I was playing was.

If I was playing along with her, who could be playing along with me without me being any the wiser?

"Not as busy as one would think," I lied as easily as I breathed. In the past week, everyone that I gave my number to at the Wayne gala had suddenly found it to give me a call. The sheer number of business deals I was making… Sainthood Construction had tripled in size just to keep up and the workload was just stacking higher and higher with each call. Miranda was being run just as rugged as I was. "What can I do for you today, Ms. Vanaver?"

"A three-story building located near the heart of Lowtown. I understand that it's been reserved, but surely we can come to an agreement," Samantha said as she walked through her manor, making the camera feed of her shift time and time again every other minute.

So, she wasn't using the Court to leverage anything, just to get her foot in the door? I could work with that.

"I suppose anything is possible," I hedged, looking up the blueprints to see who I could tell to fuck off without consequences. Which was technically everyone, but some had more soft power than others. Telling a fast-food chain to fuck off was very different from telling someone that I knew was a member of the Court of Owls to fuck off.

The contracts that I got for those that wanted to move into Lowtown were absolutely obscene. I never loved capitalism more than when I had all of the supply and everyone and their mother had the demand. It meant I got to set the terms and they had to bite the sheets and sign on the dotted line. Because, as bad as the leasing agreements and contracts were? Not jumping on the opportunity was worse.

And I could do it because Lowtown was classified as private property. Meaning that if they wanted to play in my sandbox, they had to sell their soul, along with their first, second, third, and fourthborn children, on top of giving me dump trucks full of cash. The fact that they had to use my company to build in Lowtown and go through me to purchase materials?

I was doing terrible, terrible, terrible things to major corporations.

"Have you reviewed the contract for entry?" I questioned her, and I saw Samantha smile. She apparently approved. That was surprising.

"I have -- oh, it's an awful thing, but you seem to understand the value of what you have," she told me, and I wondered how much of that was a genuine opinion and how much was her buttering me up. "Provided that we receive an adequate location, I take no issue with the contract. From what I've heard, you can be very temperamental regarding anyone arguing against the contract put forth."

Yeah, that was fair. Someone early on tried to go after the contract to gain some breathing room. So, I tightened it further. If they refused that? They were forever barred from operating in Lowtown.

"I can work with that -- from the looks of it, a building in one of the plazas over on baker's street has just opened up," I informed, making Samantha pause as she tilted her head, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"In the Narrows?" She questioned for clarification, and she received it. That clicked the pieces together for her -- I was giving her a heads up that Stairway wouldn't be Lowtow's only official entrance for long. One of the first things I did with the surplus of money was to pick out buildings that lined up with the blueprints. Then have them burnt down by one of the gangs under my control, before purchasing them through a line of shell companies, and when they were cleared by the appropriate officials, I would just sell them to myself.

She seemed to understand what kind of heads up this information was. "That's very generous of you," Samantha said, her tone pleasant, but suspicious.

"Consider it a thank you," I told her. "At the party, you and Bruce Wayne were the only two people that didn't treat me as a street rat doing tricks for the one percent. Still going to charge you out the nose, but you get first pick on a new area of development." People were fighting for spots near the entrance. Major corporations were just throwing money at me for premium real estate.

Little did they know, in a month, that value would go way down when other parts of Lowtown officially went under construction.

To that, Samantha smiled. Though I did see her make a quick order to verify the information that I was giving her. Smart. "How unexpectedly sentimental of you. I'm thankful for it. I won't take up any more of your time, goodbye, Mr. St. Jude." She said, giving me enough time to return the goodbye before she ended the call.

I watched her head to the basement of her home via a secret passageway -- once she arrived, she picked a cryocasket that contained one of the dozen Talons she had at her disposal. She went through the resuscitation process, but within five minutes, the Talon was kneeling before her.

"Find and copy the blueprints Vergil St. Jude has for Lowtown," she ordered. I'm guessing that this was a test -- she would get a copy of the blueprints, then the Court would ask for them. If my answers didn't line up, I would be in trouble. I made a note to leave the blueprints in an easy to gain, but suitably secure location.

After that, Samantha went about her business. She took a seat at her desk, took out the old timey landline dial phone, and informed her right-hand man, Rolland Vargus Jr., CEO of a domestic supermarket store chain, to coordinate how the court would be subverting my rule in Lowtown.

The Court of Owls wasn't exactly a large secret society, but it was a powerful one, I had learned. In recent years, their presence had diminished with Bruce Wayne stealing the spotlight, but the Court had been the backbone of Gotham's industry since there was a Gotham. Their influence ran deep.

Yet, I had their names now. Their calls were triangulated, names were dropped on occasion… give it a month, and I would have the entire Court mapped out. Already knew where they stashed about a fourth of their Talons -- the Vanaver manor, the Vargus manor, and the water treatment plant I picked specifically to provide a reason to monitor the building.

The only downside was the fact that since the court was so old, their traditions didn't exactly lend well to modern-day espionage. Pod 042 had easily hacked their systems, and while I found a huge helping of dirt on members of the Court, there unfortunately wasn't a silver bullet that I could use to destroy them if I wanted. So, I would have to keep looking. I just needed a bit more time.

Time changed things faster than anyone could expect. With a little preparation, I would be ready for every challenge that comes my way.

Miranda opened the door to my office, "Your schedule is packed for the next two weeks," she informed me. I nodded, having expected as much. Breakfasts, lunches, dinners, and so on. If I wanted to clear my schedule any time soon, I'd need to start eating six meals a day.

"Thanks, Miranda. You've been a big help," I reminded her. I was back to working myself ragged again, but with Miranda there, I wasn't dead from the stress.

Miranda offered a smile, pleased with the recognition, however, I noticed her lingering. "Is there something wrong?" I asked her, sitting straight and gesturing to the seat across from me. Miranda's eyes darted to it, seemingly a bit displeased, but based on how she took a seat, I'm guessing it more because I had been able to notice rather than me prodding.

I laid my hands on the desk, waiting for her to start, and after a long moment, she began. "I ran away from home. I said it was because of my father, and that is the truth, just… not all of it. My father is Henry Lawson of Lawson Pharmaceuticals…" Miranda narrowed her eyes at me. "You already know?"

I guess I should have looked surprised. "I suspected," I admitted to her. I also left out the fact that I suspected that she might be from another universe. "You didn't change your last name -- it's generic enough you didn't feel the need to, but with your organizational skills and demeanor, I figured you were raised in an upper middle class or higher home. You look a lot like your father, and that narrowed it down even more."

She seemed faintly impressed, "I… see," Miranda muttered. I'm guessing that she thought she had done a good job of hiding her identity. And, to be fair, she had. I just had the advantage of metaknowledge that I abused ruthlessly. "You were correct, but what you might not know is that I am not his daughter. I'm his lab experiment."

This time I pretended that I was surprised before pressing my lips into a thin line, gesturing for her to continue. She gave a small nod and did exactly that, "My father wanted an heir to his personal empire. He used experimental gene-editing technology to create me -- he's more of a DNA doner than my father. He combined his DNA with various other sources to create his idea of a perfect human. Me."

So, her origin from Mass Effect was still the same, I see. "When you say other doners, who exactly do you mean? Do you know?"

To that, Miranda shook her head. "I do not," she answered shortly. That, I think, was a lie. She either knew, or she strongly suspected someone, but she wasn't willing to say. However, it was a lie that I let slide. She was already coming to me, which suggested that she trusted me to some degree. In time, she would come out with the rest. Now wasn't the time to push her.

"Okay," I said, catching her hiding her surprise by straightening in her seat. "Not going to lie -- this wasn't what I expected you to talk about, but this is no problem. I'm guessing that the reason you're speaking to me now is that you're worried that your sperm donor will find you?"

Miranda offered a slow nod, "My contacts in his company have told me he's expressing some interest in Lowtown. Meaning that as your secretary, he will find out about me." She didn't sound scared of that exactly, but it did sound like it was the very last thing that she wanted to happen.

"Miranda, what do you want me to do?" I asked her directly, looking her in the eyes. Because I hoped to God that this wasn't her turning in a resignation. She hesitated to answer, so I continued. "Because all options are on the table. If you want me to tell him to fuck off? I'll tell him to fuck off." She looked a bit surprised by that, but not quite as much as she did when I continued.

My eyes narrowed ever so slightly and I clasped my hands on my desk, "If you want him dead… then that can be arranged." I continued, making Miranda go very still. "Miranda, there isn’t a line I won't cross to hell and back for Lowtown and the people in it. You are a part of this just as much as me or Tifa. As I said, all cards are on the table. What would you like done?"

It took her a very brief second to process that, but there was a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips before she wiped it away. "I believe his death would likely cause you more problems than not, so it isn’t the desired outcome." She said, and I wasn’t quite sure if she was saying that because she believed it or because she didn’t want her dad dead. Miranda straightened in her chair, crossing her legs, “If it would be agreeable to you, I would like to take a step back from the light, so to speak, and manage your more… under the table ventures.”

I titled my head ever so slightly, mulling over what she could mean by that. She handled bribes and the like before, but that didn’t sound like what she meant. What it sounded like was…

“How you handled the Old Guard was impressive. Incredible, really,” Miranda said, confirming my suspicions. She knew. And she was telling me that she knew because she was confident that I wouldn’t see her as a loose end. She was trusting me by revealing that she knew a secret that I would absolutely kill to prevent from ever seeing the light of day. “You created a gang that protects Lowtown despite you making an active effort of condemning them and severing any connection.”

I leaned back in my seat, content to see just how much she knew. “Tifa has been growing more popular as a pimp. More prostitutes are coming to her and Lowtown seeking protection. I suspected that the Narrows are your next expansion, so I looked for recent gangs growing in influence and found that a gang called the Street Kings were gaining traction rather quickly.” Miranda continued, her tone confident. “I’ve also noticed a sharp uptick in the company’s financials. While it could just be a sharp increase because of exposure, it could also be explained by funds from the gang war being passed along to you.”

She didn’t know everything. That was good. But it got my heart pounding hearing it out loud. I never uttered a word about my plans. Not to anyone, even though I had the room swept for bugs at least once a day in response to Batman planting one. The plan only existed in my thoughts. Meaning that she had puzzled that much of it out on her own from her position as my secretary.

Miranda wasn’t threatening me with this information. There wasn’t a point. No, this was far from blackmail.

This was a job interview.

I let out a small beath, “Or,” I started, “it’s coming from the hundreds of billions I stole from the Penguin along with his blackmail, leverage, shell companies, and investments.” I uttered, feeling a little weight come off of my chest saying the words out loud. Miranda offered a slow blink, and I was satisfied to have caught her off guard. “The money from the gang war went to paying off the Penguin so he wouldn’t suspect it was me that stole his data.”

“Ah… I suppose that would also explain it,” Miranda noted. She swallowed, appearing calm, but I could see her reevaluating me. I’m not sure if she was aware that I was a member of the Penguin mob, however loosely.

I offered a thin smile, “So, I take it that you’re looking to take a role in my less than public affairs?” I questioned, moving the topic along before it could sink in.

Miranda nodded, taking the change in subject in stride. “I think it would be in both of our interest if I did. You would gain a degree of separation, as well as fewer responsibilities to juggle, while I would be able to slip into anonymity. I understand that this isn’t a decision to make lightly, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to gain your trust.” She stated with an even tone.

She… was probably right about that. Even with a hands-off approach, managing that many proxies was time-consuming, to say the least. And once again, time had become a much-valued luxury. I either needed to accept more sleepless nights… or have someone dedicated to the management of my proxy network. At this stage, it just wasn’t something I could sideline.

But, at the same time, I’m not sure I trusted Miranda that much. I did trust her. A fair bit even, but managing a criminal network for me? Just taking it at her word that she wouldn’t betray me in the same way that I was betraying Cobblepot?

Trust but verify. That was the motto of the underworld in Gotham. And you only trusted people that you had leverage over, just like how Cobblepot trusted me because he thought he still had leverage over me. Like how the Court of Owls was willing to give me rope to hang myself with so they would have leverage when it came time to join the Court or become one of their pawns. The smart thing to do was to do the same to Miranda -- get leverage over her so she couldn’t even think about betraying me.

I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to be another Cobblepot. Or another Owl in the Court.

“Okay,” I told her, surprising her again with my easy acceptance. In appearance only. It was anything but. “Your first order is to set up a proxy gang in the Narrows. I’ve been pumping up the Street Kings, but nothing too significant. When that proxy becomes the front runner for controlling the Narrows…” I leaned back into my chair, “Then we’ll talk about all my side projects.”

Miranda offered a curt nod as she stood up, taking that as a dismissal. “Consider it done,” she told me, flashing me a confident smirk before she turned around and left my office. When the door closed behind her, I blew out a breath.

The Narrows was a test, of sorts. Though, it wasn't much of a test since I knew she would find a way to pass with flying colors. It was more to take something that had been on the back burner for some time and give it the attention that it needed. I had been focusing so much on Batman and the Court and the Penguin that I just didn't have the ability to focus on expansions in various territories too.

Trust was a valuable thing. Already Miranda had access to secrets that could destroy me. That would only get worse as time went by and she saw the scope of my plans. Something that not even Tifa knew about, and I trusted her vastly more than Miranda.

I would just have to keep an eye on her. A close eye. Not in search of leverage, but to make sure that she was worth the trust she was getting and asking for.

"I need to get out of this room," I muttered to myself, dragging a hand down my face. My phone was blissfully silent since I expected the talk with Samantha to last a lot longer. It felt like I hadn't left my office in days. Too much was going on for me to stop for too long.

Straightening out my appearance, I rolled my shoulders and walked out of my office room -- the HQ of Sainthood Enterprises was in a tizzy. As busy as I and Miranda were, there were a dozen other people that were equally swamped with work. They took calls, answered questions, gave instructions, and put people in a queue while the important stuff made it to Miranda, then to me. They were so swamped with work that they barely noticed me as I shambled out of the building.

Stepping outside into Lowtown, I smiled at the sight. 7th Heaven had truly become the hub for Lowtown. The train tracks that had once been there were gone, filled in at last to make room for more buildings. The central square was lined with them, the four main tunnels stretching out in each direction -- some were still being set up, but we had a Starbucks already. If that wasn't a sign that Lowtown had made it, I didn't know what was.

It wasn't just Starbucks. We had various fast-food chains, and restaurants -- they were here because they took the deal. Reduced prices in Lowtown with frequent donations to the community. I honestly had no clue if they would turn a profit under the conditions I gave them, but if they didn't, then that was no skin off my nose.

Honestly speaking, I didn't want a single corporation down here. But, I wouldn't hesitate to take their money when they were so eager to throw it at me. When they realized that they were screwed in Lowtown, the vast majority of them would leave. I was estimating most would stick around for a year at least, but by the second I would see most of them phased-out.

They would be replaced with small-time businesses who only had to sell their soul to set up shop in Lowtown. Well, not even their whole soul, just a majority stake of it and their business in exchange for funding. Most would likely peeter out or barely make ends meet, but if one or two of them became a chain underneath Sainthood Enterprises? That made it worth it the loss of income.

I was just using the corporations for a quick buck and to cover the costs of building Lowtown. Construction was nonstop in every direction -- Sainthood Construction went from struggling to find a contract to one of the most prolific construction companies in the city. I considerably expanded the workforce and equipment to cover every project. The influx of business wouldn't last forever, so I was already looking to expand beyond Gotham city to make sure I didn't have any layoffs.

My phone rang, and for a moment, I thought about just not answering it. But when I saw the caller ID, I didn't hesitate to answer as I walked through Lowtown.

"Deliverer! You seem to be doing well!" Snowflame's voice spoke in my ear, sounding as exuberant as ever. Meaning that he was high off cocaine, which was the norm for him, but as far as I knew, he was scaling back ever so slightly to stash away coke to be used for his next communion with the god of cocaine.

"Sounds like you are as well. Things progressing well on your end?" I asked him, making my way to Stairway. There were enough people that I didn't stand out. Lowtown had seen a population explosion -- we were at fifteen thousand, but in the past two weeks it jumped to over twenty-five thousand residents, with another twenty-thousand on the waiting list with more on the way.

"All is well, Deliverer. All is well. The faithful have procured the requested items and deeds. We await your command." I nodded, glad for it.

Sainthood Enterprises was about to become an international company. Lumber imports from Brazil with a branch in Brazil itself for when exports started up. But, that wasn't all.

"And your stash?" I asked him, receiving a giddy giggle from Snowflame.

"I've managed to save twice the previous amount," he informed and that was mildly terrifying. Cutting back, he managed to save up about a hundred million in cocaine. Just him much did he snort on a given day?

But that wasn't the point. "Alright. I'll be flying out in a few weeks, so keep adding to the pile. This time we should get you more than just a minute of communion," I told him, earning an uproarious laugh on the other end that made me move the phone away from my ear.

"Stay safe, Snow. This could be the start of something great, and I don't want you to miss it," I told him, actually meaning it, and not just because he was the key player in my next plan. We got off on the wrong foot mostly because of my hang-ups about drugs, but Snowflame was a surprisingly decent guy underneath the cocaine-fueled religiousness.

"I should be saying that to you, Deliverer. Until we meet again," Snowflame said, before I hung up. I tucked my phone into my pocket and started walking up the stairs.

It was an idea that I had, but I wasn't sure how it would play out. Which is why I needed Snowflame, the god of cocaine, and a metric fuck ton of cocaine.

You could call it the next phase of the war on drugs in America. You couldn't stop cocaine from being smuggled into the country. But, what you could do was legalize a non-harmful, non-addictive, non-lethal replacement. I wasn't sure if it would pan out, which is why I needed to speak to the god of cocaine. And maybe Poison Ivy. Something to turn a coca plant that went through the cocaine transformation process into a non-harmful version of cocaine. Or, even better, something with medicinal benefits.

I walked up the stairs, mulling over the possibilities. However, about halfway up the stairs I felt a hand reach out and grab me by the arm. Looking over, I saw it was Jason Todd underneath a hat and glasses. The red hoodie was a dead giveaway.

I felt an intense stare through the sunglasses as he squeezed down on my arm.

"We need to talk."