See No Evil: The Quake (ch. 53) (Patreon)

The Joker's body was moving. An alert appeared in my vision warning me of that fact, making me freeze in place as I straightened out my tie. But, after a small beat of silence, I resumed as if nothing was wrong. Because, as alarming as that was, it was also completely expected. The Joker's body had been handed over to the government, they sent it to a location over in North Dakota, and now it was moving again a few days later. Most likely to pick out a hole in the ground where the Joker's corpse would be dumped and forgotten about.

It was nothing to worry about, I told myself, checking my appearance one final time. I looked immaculate -- freshly shaven, my hair neat and orderly, with my wine red dress shirt tucked into my black slacks, and a black blazer with a red handkerchief neatly folded in the breast pocket. I was also wearing a black tie that was tucked underneath my blazer and vest, a silver clip keeping it firmly secure. To tie it all together, my black dress shoes were polished to a shine, as were my cufflinks.

I looked good. My skin had a healthy glow to it, though I was a bit pale. It was winter, so that was to be expected. There weren't any bags under my eyes that would betray my late hours and sleepless nights. I almost regretted how short notice everything was with the expo -- it had been the plan to hold it as soon as possible to best capitalize on my name recognition, but even with a detailed plan, organization was a real beast.

I rolled my wrists, feeling the mechanism that would pop a card into my hand with a flick of my wrist. Seemed fitting to keep some cards up my sleeves. The rest of my deck was in my coat pocket, ready to be summoned at a moment's notice.

"I've come a long way," I said, looking in the mirror. I barely recognize myself anymore. My suit was more than just a suit. The fibers of it were coated in a ballistic gel that absorbed kinetic energy. I could get shot in the chest by Revy's sniper rifle and it'd only knock me back a half step. If that. The buttons at my collar were forcefield generators that protected my head -- multilayered for maximum protection.

Hundreds of billions of dollars was a lot of money. A whole lot of money. And I had used it wisely. The suit wasn't enough to let me go toe to toe with Superman, but it sure would make things difficult for those pesky assassins that had been popping up as of late. Even if their car bombs actually managed to go undetected, I would probably survive the explosion. Unharmed.

They were all necessary precautions. A lot of people wanted me dead. Enough random people had tried to follow through on that desire that it was clear that some of them had the same backer and was using proxies to cover their tracks. The most likely culprit was Cobblepot. As many resources as I stole from him, I'm certain that he still had secret caches on top of his secret caches.

It's what I would do.

"Ready?" Tifa asked me, poking her head into our shared bedroom. She wore a black dress and a pair of high heels that wouldn't look out of place on 2B. The fact I knew that she could kick ass with them on only made it the sight that much better.

I spared her a smile, "Not quite," I said, summoning a card to my hand. Unsealing it, I revealed two earrings dotted with red jewels that seemed to glow almost. "It's still a work in progress, but here. I wanted you to have these-"

"Materia?" Tifa breathed, grabbing the earrings from me as she inspected the jewels, holding them up. "How-"

"You told me about them, and I figured I'd try my hand at making them. They're just a prototype at the moment, but they should give you-" I started to explain, but almost casually, Tifa interrupted, so lost in her own thoughts that she came to the answer before I could speak it.

"Firaga?" Tifa mumbled, quickly taking out her previous earrings, which I had also gotten her, and tossing them to the side without a care. Putting the new ones on, she tossed a small, yet picture-perfect jab and a small jet of flames erupted from her knuckles. Her face split in a wide smile before she looked at me.

It was a test, really. A proof of concept of sorts. I had learned that my cards could make technological wonders that could be reverse engineered. They also could vastly improve base materials. However, now I was experimenting with what else they could do. I was searching for a hard limit for my cards, for something that they couldn't do.

So far, though it was vastly less consistent and the definition of hit and miss, I did manage to make her fire materia earrings. They gave the wearer the ability to launch fire from their fists and feet. Nothing too powerful, yet, but when I found out the rules for creating magic items, I think that could change.

"I love them, Vergil," she said, planting a kiss on my cheek. "Let’s just hope that I don't have to use them tonight," she said, earning an agreeing nod from me. If she had to use them, then that meant that things took a very, very, very wrong turn.

"Here's hoping," I agreed, before I headed towards the door. I had some time to mentally prepare myself for what was to come. I had everything set up. Despite how short notice it was, I had prepared to the best of my ability. I was probably the only person who was actually prepared for the expo.

I had to use that. This was the moment that would decide if Sainthood Enterprises became a titan the likes of Wayne Enterprises or Luthor Incorporated… or if it would just become another company.

As I walked, Tifa hooked her arm around mine. It helped more to calm me down than I cared to admit. The only thing that I could compare this moment to was the moment when I first walked into the Iceberg Lounge. Because, in a way, it was just like walking into the Iceberg Lounge back then -- the people that I would be meeting were powerful people. Very powerful people.

The kinds of people that had so much power that the difference in resources, influence, and hard and soft power was about the same as it had been between me and Cobblepot when I had walked into his office.

Only this time they were coming into my house. It was my parlor they were walking into. I was the spider here. I had a hundred feeds from every conceivable angle in the expo, and Pod was keeping a lookout. I trusted him. If he hadn't sent me an alert yet, then there was nothing to worry about. The priority targets weren't discussing how to best steal my kidneys or how to take my company from me. Or, at the very least, they weren't saying it out loud.

I took in a deep breath as we reached the bar after a quick trip in the elevator. I saw Jack working behind the counter, who gave me a quick wave and a wink before we headed downstairs. It turns out that he cleans up pretty nice. 2B, Revy, and Cassandra were waiting for us. Golf carts were the method of travel down here, but that didn't mean we couldn't arrive in style. By style, I meant the limousine equivalent to a golf cart -- tinted windows, enough room for us all to sit comfortably, and most importantly of all, it was bulletproof.

"You three look fantastic," I noted, earning a middle finger from Revy while Cassandra offered a sweet smile. 2B, on the other hand, remained unflinching. It was evident that she was treating the outing as a mission, with her goal being to protect me. Though, I did notice a few differences.

She wasn't wearing her blindfold, for starters. In its place were contacts that gave her access to priority cameras and emergency access to the entire system. Her hair was still in the same style, though her dress had changed some -- skin tight and black, with white trimming and a slit that went up high on her thigh. It was a dress that Cassandra had picked.

Cassandra, who was currently dressed in a black and gold cocktail dress, completely uncaring of how it displayed the many scars that littered her body. That would catch some questions and raise attention, but it was well worth it if Cass didn't feel self-conscious about them.

Lastly, Revy wore her usual attire, deciding that the Expo that would decide the fate of Sainthood Enterprises wasn't worth dressing up for. Not that I expected her to. Honestly, I'm surprised she bothered to dress up for the President of the United States.

"You look like yourself. Come on, let's get this over with," Revy decided, shoving me into the car. Miranda was seated on the inside, dressed no different than normal. She met my gaze as I stepped inside and took a seat in the admittedly nice golf cart -- the seats were red velvet 2, a long couch lining the walls of the golf cart. The low ceiling made it a bit awkward, but it was comfortable once you sat down.

"Your notes," Miranda said, passing them to me. A list of talking points in general, with some prepared specifically for certain people. Of which, the big names were Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, Ted Lord, and a few others that were far less important. At least comparatively. With my contacts, I had a list of approved press -- on that list was Lois Lane and her partner, Clark Kent. So, I had three superheroes in Lowtown, one of which was the heavy hitter of DC comics, and one supervillain.

A member of the Light, the big bad guys of the entire series. On top of Luthor being one of, if not the, most intelligent man on the planet.

But, in a way, that was almost reassuring. I knew who and where my enemies were. They were in my house, under my observation. If they tried to make a move, then I would be ready. I just had to tread carefully -- measure every word, think ahead of time how they would use every conversation against me… I was as ready as I ever could be.

Still, I couldn't say that it didn't feel like I was showing up for my own execution when the car came to a stop. The girls began to get out one after another and I heard the excited clamoring of people talking over each other. It was an important event, so paparazzi were a given. I had hoped that by picking out the more 'reputable' of the bunch, they would be on their best behavior, but apparently not.

I was the last to leave, but as I did so, Miranda reached out and grabbed my wrist. She looked monetarily uncertain, making it clear that it was a snap decision, but she gathered herself. "Would you pass a message to my father?" She requested, and it was the first time she ever asked anything of me. So, the answer was obvious.

"Of course. What kind of message?" I asked her, wondering if she was asking me to threaten, warn, or mock her father on her behalf.

Miranda offered a thin smile, "Just tell him that there won't be a third." She said, and it was easy enough to guess what she meant. Though she hadn't told me, I knew she had a baby sister. A warning that he wouldn't attempt to create and mold himself another heir.

"I'll pass it along," I agreed, offering a smile before I shuffled out of the car. It was a red carpet event, and the red carpet was rolled out in front of what was the most unique building of all of Lowtown. It had been intended to be the underground equivalent to a park, but it ended up becoming a botanical garden. Having a wide open space equal to the park up above was asking for a collapse, regardless of the building materials and root support.

The garden was a large building, an octagon, with each corner having a wall that connected to a central point, cutting the building into slices. It was meant to be a park, but it was temporarily being used for this event since it was the only one large enough to house it.

As expected, the Paparazzi immediately made a nuisance of themselves. I might have been blinded by all the flashing cameras if it weren't for my contacts. Everyone was asking a thousand questions at once, but I ignored them in favor of striding forward -- Cassandra and Revy had continued on, but Tifa and 2B had stayed behind. Entering the front of the building, I surveyed the lobby that had been converted into a greeting area -- manned by a receptionist and various attendants. However, while the guests followed the path on the right side of the receptionist, I went left.

"Right," I muttered, looking at Tifa and 2B. "First, I have my speech, then I need to 7show off some of the most impressive inventions, and after that it's mingling. 2B, I'm guessing you're sticking close?"

2B nodded, "Affirmative." She agreed without hesitation.

I turned to Tifa, "Keep an eye on Cass and Revy, okay?" I said, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. We had killed David Cain, but that didn't mean that the League of Shadows would give up on Cass. Her mother was still a tie to the Shadows and until Lady Shiva was dead and gone, I still had to worry about the Shadows trying to take Cass. A worry that 7was intensified because Lex was in the building.

Tifa nodded, "Worry about your speech. We'll all be fine," she reassured. To prove that point, she planted a quick kiss on my lips before she headed off to find Cass and Revy before they could find trouble, or make any. I took in a deep breath and nearly gave myself the hiccups when I got another alert about the Joker's body. At the moment, it had stopped dead in its tracks. Meaning that whatever plane or helicopter that was being used for transport had stopped.

A trade-off?

I fought off a frown as I kept a closer eye on the situation while I walked, thankfully able to cut through the center pillar to save myself from walking around it. One of the slices of the building was converted into a waiting area of sorts -- it's where the press and the important guests were. I approached from behind the curtained-off area, taking one final moment to straighten out my tie.

"You can do it," 2B suddenly blurted, catching me by suprise midstep. I glanced at her. She looked a tad uncertain, but she looked at me with an intense gaze. Like she was trying to force me into accepting the reassurance.

I smiled, "Yeah, I can," I agreed, resolving myself. I walked up a set of steps, bringing me to the stage I would be performing on so everyone could see me, then I stepped through the curtain and appeared before a hundred guests. As nerve-wracking as it was, it was nothing compared to speaking to over fifteen thousand people in the flesh. Or knowing that millions would watch my interviews. My gaze swept over the crowd, most of which were seated in luxury chairs -- in the front row, almost as if my gaze was drawn to him, I found Lex Luthor.

He sat in his chair, looking comfortable, but the moment I stepped out, his gaze met mine. His head was devoid of a single hair, not even on his strongly defined jaw -- it was a hard look to pull off, but with his perfectly plucked eyebrows and high cheekbones, he looked good rather than just looking like an egg. He wore a black and white suit, no different than anyone else here, except for maybe the million-dollar watch on his wrist.

The seat next to him, which should be filled by Cobblepot, was completely empty. He had RSVPed. My curiosity was piqued, but I had more pressing concerns. I tore my gaze away from Lex Luthor as my eyes continued to sweep over the front row. Bruce Wayne sat nearby, accompanied by Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. I saw Police Commissioner James Gordon, as well as Ted Kord, head of Kord Industries.

I didn't have a good view of them here, but I knew Superman and Lois Lane were also in the crowd.

I… completely forgot my speech. Thankfully, my contacts held a copy of my notes.

"Welcome to Sainthood Enterprise’s first expo. Hopefully, the first of many," I began, projecting my voice a bit as I threw on a practiced smile. A smile that promptly became incredibly strained as I got another alert.

The Joker's corpse just teleported from the border of South Dakota to Gotham city. My trackers still said that he was dead, though. It would be a stretch to think that the Government had teleporters of their own, but… why Gotham? Why not just use the teleporter in the first place?

I forged on even as my brain began to race. "We have many inventions on display, and while all of them were tirelessly worked on by our engineers and scientists, I believe some of them are a tad more groundbreaking than others," I gestured, and that was the cue. A car slipped between the curtain that I had walked through -- a lovely sedan. Dark blue, sleek looking, but overall, nothing that you wouldn't expect a family to own.

"This here is the SE Elixir -- the pride and joy of Sainthood Automotive. A lovely vehicle for a family of four -- a car that dad wouldn't be ashamed to be seen in, and a safety rating that mom will adore," I began keeping my voice even and confident.

The Joker hadn't moved. He also wasn't anywhere near where I could see him. As I continued to speak, I sent a message to Miranda. The guards would be notified, but given that they were already on high alert for the expo, a warning was all I could give them.

"Safety is a rare thing these days," I began, recalling parts of the speech I had practiced. "People say that the world is changing -- aliens, meta-humans, science experiments gone wrong… but, the thing is, the world has already changed. In some ways for the better, others for the worse. At Sainthood Enterprises, our mission statement is to embrace change. To adapt to this world that we find ourselves in."

My gaze swept over the room, "The laws of nature dictate that those that don't adapt die. But, humanity didn't spend the past fifty thousand years breaking free of the food chain just to get luck back on it, " I said and 2B stepped on stage and handed me a gun. An AK-7. The crowd tensed for a moment, and I had that same easy smile on my face, "Did you know that most automotive awards are absolutely meaningless? If not outright made up?"

You could hear a pin drop in the room, it was like no one was so much as breathing. "Automotive companies will give awards for the most basic of things -- suspension performance, acceleration, handling. They get awards for doing the bare minimum. Not here at Sainthood Enterprises!" I proclaimed, shouldering the gun and, despite myself, I found myself looking at a pensive if curious-looking Lex Luthor. "This here gun was provided by Shady Slim from the back of a van in Gotham dock. The rounds are explosive hollow points -- a Gotham special. Let's see how the Elixir does with the drive-by test."

With that, I aimed and fired. The gun bucked against my shoulder, but my suit protected me from any real recoil. Bullets smacked into the side of the vehicle as loud pops echoed in my ear, making it ring. I sprayed the car -- bullets slamming into the doors, the windows, the tires, everywhere. And, everywhere it was shot, the bullet was stopped cold in its tracks.

All the while, I used the brief reprieve from speaking to read the reply from Miranda -- she had sent a group that was nearby the Joker's current location to check out the situation. People that were tagged with cameras. Through my contacts, I looked at where the Joker was on my map. A building in the Narrows that looked like it should have been demolished a decade ago. The group approached slowly, cautiously, enough so that I sent a message to 2B to get me another magazine to stall for more time.

Wordlessly, I popped the magazine out and took the fresh one from 2B, before I approached from the other side and began firing once again. I saw graffiti-covered walls, where the rotting drywall wasn't ripped out. I saw broken glass, old stains… and light coming from down the hallway that leaked out from a staircase that led to the basement.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I did not like this. I didn't like this at all. The group proved they were braver men than me because they pressed forward, heading to the light as they got their guns out.

My gun clicked empty and I forced my heart rate to slow down. I couldn't give anything away. So, I forced my smile to remain in place as I gestured to the vehicle that was peppered with bullets. The bullets had flattened against the car's body. The glass was fractured, but only around where the bullets hit. Even the tires were still full.

"Would you look at that? I would say that it passed the drive-by test! Your family of four doesn't have a thing to fear when you're driving down the streets of Gotham," I stated confidently, and I saw the interest in people's eyes as they saw the implications. "All for the low, low, low price of thirty thousand dollars."

Military-grade was something that got tossed around a lot as a phrase, but most people didn't understand what it meant. Civilian cars were made to break down. They were made to slowly lose their function as the miles stacked higher and higher. They were designed to make it ten or fifteen years before the problems stacked up until it became cheaper to just get a new car.

Military-grade vehicles were made to last. They were designed to take an IED to the engine and still roll on afterward. They were made to take punishment, from the enemy, to the elements, to shitty repairmen not doing their jobs -- they were made to endure all of it and still do their job of transporting and protecting their soldiers.

This was because a car company wanted to sell you multiple vehicles. One every fifteen years might not sound a lot, but it was their business model. The military wanted to pay for a vehicle once, get as much use out of it as possible, before retiring it.

In essence? I was putting military-grade vehicles on the civilian market at very affordable rates. At rates that a family of four could afford with a ten-year lease, for a car that could see fifty to sixty years rather than a mere ten.

"Not only is it the pinnacle of safety, here at Sainthood Enterprises, but eco-friendliness is also our concern, which is why the Elixir is complete, one hundred percent, carbon footprint-free despite consuming limited and polluting fossil fuels that will inevitably run out and leave the world scrambling for another efficient energy source," I added. That was to keep in line with Pamela -- she wouldn't work with me if I was harming the environment like everyone else.

All the while, as I spoke, the gangsters headed towards the light. They tried to stealth down the stairs, but glass broke under their feet. The stairs squeaked, but they continued on anyway. Whatever Miranda was paying them, I'm sure it wasn't enough. They reached the bottom of the stairs, peeking out and…

I saw the Joker's corpse. He laid on a pentagram that seemed to be made in blood. Candles made of fat -- human fat -- blazed brightly at each point. Standing above the corpse was a face that I could never forget.

Klarion the Witch Boy.

I had missed it, but he was the one responsible for the separation of worlds a few years ago. He was a Lord of Chaos. A powerful sorcerer. And he was here. In Gotham. Performing a ritual on the Joker's corpse.

Fuck.

"'Ello! You're just in time!" I heard before darkness covered the cameras. I heard a short-lived scream, then there was silence as the connection was severed.

There were no words to describe the sheer level of panic that I felt. The English dictionary, despite hundreds of years of evolution and change, hadn't reached a level that could articulate what I felt at that moment. And, in a thousand years from now, I was confident that there still wouldn't be words that could convey even a fraction of it. Despite my panic, my smile didn't waver.

The show had to go on.

"I'm sure that you're all very interested in hearing the statistics of the Elixir, but I'm afraid that I realize now that I should have given them first before I started shooting the car," I said, my tone even and confident as I earned a polite but of laughter. "So, we will move on to the next highlight of the night -- Hard Light," I said as the stage began to lower to the ground.

There were murmurs as everyone realized at once that I had been standing on a stage constructed from Hard Light -- it had held not only me, but two tons of vehicle. Forcefields weren't exactly new, but they were impractical to everyone that wasn't a hero or a villain. The good ones required too much power to make them conventional, so they had to be large and expensive.

The one I stood on for until my feet touched the ground was much the same, but the buttons and cufflinks that I wore were not. A personal shield to protect me.

I took a moment and made a decision. It required me to burn a resource that I very much wanted in my pocket, but this was too important. Klarion the Witch Boy and the Joker were here. That couldn't happen. It absolutely couldn't happen under any circumstances. I had no clue what Klarion was doing, but it had to be stopped.

I composed a message with my contacts, a feature implemented after I was forced to text during my confrontation with Two-Face. A simple one-sentence message that conveyed all the information needed.

‘Klarion is resurrecting the Joker at 33 Smithson Ave -- A Concerned Citizen’

I used the same alias that I used when sending the drive to James Gordon, only this time I didn’t use a letter. I sent the message directly to Bruce Wayne through the Bat Computer, using my access to it to flag the message as a priority alert. I saw him stiffen the moment that he got it, and just like me, he kept up the same charming smile despite the panic that I knew he must be feeling internally.

How I sent the message would be sure to tip-off that someone had their finger in the Batcomputer. My bugs would be found. That was certain, meaning I had also wasted a favor with the Court, but right now, I didn’t care. It was worth it if it meant the Joker stayed dead forever. The only regret that I had at the moment was that I trusted the government to dispose of the body properly instead of doing it myself.

“The world has changed,” I reiterated a previous point, looping back to it. “The days of speculative science fiction have arrived- no. They’ve been here for decades in some cases, but until now, these creations that had once been fiction were kept under the rug. Or worse, in the hands of supervillains for their own personal use and theirs alone.” I continued even as I sent an alert to Miranda, telling her to prepare for hell itself.

“What lays beyond this point is my attempt -- with the hard work of many others -- to embrace the change that the world has undergone rather than pretending that the world is as it ever has been,” I said with a flourish, earning a loud round of applause spearheaded by Cassandra and Tifa.

I smiled as I dropped into a theatrical bow, but it was only to hide the slip of my smile for the briefest of seconds as my heart dropped to my feet.

The Joker had teleported to the entrance of the Stairway bar, enough to allow me to see him. He held his previous form, still dressed in his signature purple suit, with his green hair slicked back and his ruby red lips parted in a crazed smile. However, tendrils of darkness emerged from the hole in his heart and the whites of his eyes were a pitch black that honestly scared the hell out of me.

“Let’s shake things up a bit!” The Joker howled, crackling with laughter, and in response…

The world began to quake.