The donation ceremony finally came to an end. Once the last reporter had been escorted out by a phalanx of uniforms who looked relieved to have something physical to do, the reception shifted gears. Folding tables were hastily shoved together and draped with white tablecloths, then loaded down with the kind of buffet spread that passed for fancy in a police precinct: cold cuts, cheese cubes on toothpicks, crackers, some sad-looking vegetable trays, and a suspicious amount of fried chicken.
Oliver stood in the corner with a plate he hadn't touched. The piece of steak sitting there never made it to his mouth. He frowned slightly, staring at nothing in particular while his mind worked through a problem that shouldn't have been complicated but somehow was.
Three million...
How the hell did it turn into five million?
This trip to Gotham was supposed to be damage control. He had planned to smooth over some unintentional trouble his team had caused, conduct a strategic assessment of the city's unique challenges, and maybe do some charity work on the side to polish the Queen Foundation's image. It was meant to be simple.
Instead, everything had spiraled completely out of control. The budget had nearly doubled. What frustrated him most wasn't even the money itself... it was that he'd been outmaneuvered in a way he couldn't argue against. Bruce had turned a simple donation into a competition, and he had walked right into it. Worse, he'd enjoyed it. The quarter-tossing contest had been fun.
Meanwhile, Bruce looked completely at ease. He moved through the crowd, stopping here and there to exchange pleasantries with officers who'd probably never been within ten meters of a billionaire before. They looked starstruck. He looked amused.
Eventually, his path brought him to where Marco was standing near the buffet table, demolishing a sandwich.
"Hey, Marco. Long time no see."
"Hey!" Marco's mouth was stuffed with toast and bacon, but he grinned anyway, chewing frantically for a few seconds before managing to swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and straightened up. "Yeah, it's been a minute. Good to see you."
Bruce smiled, set his coffee cup down on the table, and avoided the hand Marco was extending by turning to grab a plate instead. He picked up a piece of egg studied it with mild interest.
"I'm curious. I heard there was some kind of incident here a few days ago."
Marco snorted under his breath. Heard. Of course he had. From who? Gordon, obviously. The two of them were probably on the phone every other night comparing notes.
Marco shoved another strip of bacon into his mouth, chewed once, then nodded. "Yeah, we had a situation. Nothing gets past you, does it?"
He glanced over at the Star City group.
"That night, we had ninjas and demons. Some of my people nearly died."
That last part came out louder than the rest. Oliver's attention snapped over immediately.
"Are you sure about that? To be honest, I've seen plenty of so-called miracles that turned out to be smoke and mirrors. Advanced technology can fake a lot of things."
Marco sighed and shook his head. "I wish you were right, Mr. Queen. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier. But every officer on scene saw it. We have surveillance footage as well."
He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Would you like to see it?"
Bruce and Oliver exchanged a quick glance, then both nodded.
"Yeah," Oliver said. "I'd like to see that."
"Me too," Bruce added.
---
Forensics Lab.
The forensics lab was cramped and poorly lit. The faces gathered around the main console were washed in the cold blue glow of several monitors. Edward sat at the keyboard, fingers flying across the keys. He was wearing his white lab coat, which somehow made him look both more and less professional at the same time.
"Alright," he said, not looking up. "This is the footage from that night. Multiple angles, synchronized timestamps. I've cleaned up the resolution as much as I could, but some of it's still pretty rough."
He hit enter, and the screens came alive.
The first feed showed the rooftop. A dummy had been rigged with a grenade, positioned to detonate whether someone solved Edward's riddle incorrectly or correctly. Marco still was not entirely sure how that one was supposed to work. The explosion flared bright even through the camera's limited dynamic range. A second later came the screams, followed by the sound of something, or someone, hitting the ground.
The next camera showed a side window. An assassin in full tactical gear charged into view and slammed face-first into iron bars. Even in the grainy footage, the spray of blood was visible.
The perspective shifted again, this time to the underground passage. Blinding flashes erupted across the screen as arcs of blue electricity snapped through the air.
Then the cafeteria footage appeared.
A dark purple portal tore open in midair and creatures poured through it.
Finally, the footage reached the main hall.
Some officers' faces contorted as black veins spread across their skin. Their eyes bulged and turned yellow, splitting into compound surfaces like an insect's. They looked inhuman.
Then came the truly horrifying part.
Other officers, their own colleagues, were forced to drive sharp objects beneath their fingernails in a desperate attempt to expel the possessing entities. The screaming carried through even the tinny surveillance audio.
When the footage ended, the lab fell silent.
Thea had gone pale, her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold. Even John, who'd probably seen more combat than everyone else in the room combined, looked disturbed.
Oliver stared at the blank screen.
"So, any conclusions yet?"
"Not yet," Marco said, shaking his head. "But as you can see, we're dealing with some serious shit. Considering the ninja element, there's a good chance this originated from somewhere overseas. Which means this could escalate into an international incident if we're not careful."
Bruce ignored Marco's geopolitical theorizing. His gaze swept across the monitors, lingering briefly on a frame where Raven's silhouette was visible in the background, before settling on Edward, who was already pulling up additional data on a side screen.
This man's talent was obvious. Not just in the lethal creativity of those riddle-traps, but in the defense systems he'd built.
"Impressive work. Mr. Nygma, your skills are clearly being underutilized here."
Edward's fingers paused on the keyboard for a fraction of a second.
Bruce continued, "Staying in the East End as a forensic examiner seems like a waste of potential. Wayne Enterprises has the world's best laboratories, unlimited resources, and projects that would challenge someone of your caliber. There's a broader stage there, one that—"
"No, thanks."
Edward didn't even wait for Bruce to finish. He didn't look up, either. His fingers resumed typing, pulling up another data set like the conversation had already ended.
"The work environment here is comfortable. And I'm more interested in solving the precinct's problems than corporate R&D."
Bruce's expression flickered. He nodded slightly, filing the information away. Edward: talented, principled, not motivated by money or prestige.
He turned to Marco instead. "It's clear the threats you're facing go way beyond ordinary gang activity."
"Yeah." Marco sighed. "The department can't handle this alone. We need support."
He gestured at the monitors, which were now displaying frozen frames of the attack. "Specifically, we need better tech. Computer specialists, network security, that kind of thing. Edward's been teaching himself, and he's making progress fast, but he's already juggling forensics, evidence analysis, and building our entire security infrastructure. He's the smartest person in the GCPD, and we're working him to death."
He hesitated, then added, "Any chance you could lend us Mr. Fox for a while?"
Bruce's expression shifted almost imperceptibly. "Ah. I'm afraid that won't be possible."
Lucius was not merely the Chief Technology Officer of Wayne Enterprises. He was also the primary designer and maintainer of nearly all of Batman's equipment. Allowing him to spend time at the East End precinct would invite questions he could not afford to answer.
"Lucius oversees our global technology strategy. His schedule is booked well into next year. However..."
He glanced at Oliver, who was watching the exchange with interest. The donation contest flashed through his mind... The tie bothered him more than it should have.
"However, last month you recommended a Mr. Schott to join Wayne Enterprises. He's been doing excellent work. As a thank-you for that, I'd like to make an additional personal donation of one million dollars. Specifically earmarked for upgrading Mr. Nygma's lab equipment."
His gaze swept over the outdated instruments and aging computers scattered around the lab, then cut sideways toward Oliver with a faint smile.
Oliver caught that look and understood immediately. Being one-upped like this grated on him in a way he couldn't quite articulate. But whether measured by sheer financial power or Bruce's convenient use of "gratitude" as justification, continuing to throw money at the problem wasn't the right move.
"Interesting," he said slowly. "Since Wayne Enterprises can't provide network support, perhaps Queen Industries can fill that gap. My company has an excellent network specialist on staff. Her name is..."
He paused, drawing a complete blank.
Thea raised an eyebrow. John stepped forward and murmured quietly in Oliver's ear.
"Right. Felicity Smoak. She's outstanding in data analysis, system defense, and network architecture. If the East End precinct needs it, I can arrange for her to spend a few days each month providing technical support and system maintenance. Queen Industries would cover all associated costs, of course."
---
The group left the forensics lab with varying expressions.
Upstairs, they ran into Anna and Raven returning from wherever they'd disappeared to, both carrying ice cream cones.
"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Queen!"
Anna's eyes widened, and she launched herself forward so quickly she nearly dropped her ice cream. She skidded to a stop in front of them, trembling slightly, her mouth opening and closing as if she could not decide what to say first.
Raven lifted her gaze to Oliver and Bruce and studied them in silence for a moment.
"Indecision," she said quietly. She turned her eyes to Bruce. "Darkness."
Then she glanced at Anna. The corner of her mouth twitched.
"Fangirl."
Anna either didn't hear or didn't care. She was too busy staring at two of the richest, most famous men on the East Coast like they'd descended from Mount Olympus.