See No Evil: A Good Turn (ch.19) (Patreon)

It didn't feel real as I read the headlines. It was all over the news in Gotham, each outlet telling the same story. The Blackgaters, the kings of East End, had been toppled and it was now a race for the throne. Articles about the number of arrests made, articles praising the Bat-family and the police. Jim Gordan was nominated to receive a medal by the city council. Pictures of the Bat-family were posted online and gossip and rumors were spiraling out of control.

But, for every good thing, there was a bad thing. For every article praising the Bat-family, there was another criticizing them. Kid Flash had sprinted through the gang and taken care of hundreds of them in minutes. So, the natural question was why the Flash didn't visit Gotham regularly whenever a gang war happened?

"Ah… I made them look incompetent," I muttered to myself, taking a sip of my coffee as I scrolled through an article that was anything but unbiased. That was an accident. I didn't know that the bat family would seek out of Gotham help. They never seemed to in comics. I mean, Metropolis was literally a bridge away and Superman never showed up. So, maybe it was a fair question.

I always chalked it up to Batman being a dick, but I lacked a four-digit IQ, so I probably wasn't smart enough to figure out his true reasons. The point was that the people of Gotham caught a glimpse at how easy a single metahuman had solved an issue that the Bat-family had struggled with for weeks. Maybe it was a good question to ask, and maybe it was good to have a light shone on an obvious problem, but it left a bad taste in my mouth.

My plan had worked, just not how I wanted. I gave the Blackgaters a target, but they reacted stronger than I had anticipated. I thought they would send a sizable force, like… fifty guys at the absolute max, not several hundred. The plan was to rob them blind, take everything that they had with the window of opportunity that was there, but because they went so big, I couldn't risk it. With so much attention on them, people would be asking 'where did possibly hundreds of millions in money, drugs, weapons, etc go?' People like the Bat-family, or the media, or the police.

Because of that, I was in more debt. Sorta. I owed so much money that my soul cringed every time I thought about it. Yet, I had money in the bank. I could pay off about half of it at the moment. The near million I already had, the five that I stole, the couple mill that I withdrew from Mr. Cobblepot -- I wasn't in the same situation I was in before. Eight million was a crazy amount of money. It was just turning that eight million into more money that was the issue.

Regardless, the plan didn't go to plan. And now the Bat-family was getting smeared for being human. I succeeded in my goals, just not in the way I wanted. Giving the thumb drive to Commissioner Gordon would tip off Bat Girl, who I thought would gather up the Bat-family to kick ass. The police would arrest the Blackgaters, the Blackgaters would lose more strength, more gangs would attack them, and 7th Heaven was supposed to take everything that wasn't bolted down.

"I misjudged Ted. And the Bat-family," I mused, thinking over the mistakes I made. And trying to learn from them. With the former, it was a case of a lack of information. With the latter, it was unreliable meta-knowledge. I expected the Bat-family to act a certain way because that's how they did in comics. I didn't know enough about Ted -- I went with what I would do and used that as a basis.

A lesson to learn. If I ever did this again, then I needed hard facts. I needed to know them inside and out. I needed to be able to accurately predict their actions and reactions every step of the way-

My musings were cut off when a hand slapped me in the back, "You're too young to be brooding at a bar while reading the news," Jack pointed out as he took a seat next to me. I flashed him a grin as I set my phone down. Jack looked good. Better than I had ever seen him.

The damage done by the Jokers had faded, the only traces was a scar that cut into his mustache. The casts were off too, but more than that… Jack had cleaned himself up. His untamed salt and pepper beard were trimmed back until it was much shorter, the same with his hair. Honestly, if it wasn't for the beanie that he still wore, I doubt I would recognize him. He was even dressed better because of clothes that were bought and repaired thanks to my cards, though that last part was unknown to most.

"Calling this place a bar would be a stretch," I pointed out, gesturing to our surroundings. It was the burnt-out husk of a building that I had purchased. Two weeks had been enough time to undo some of the damage caused by an ‘electrical fire.’ The charred bits were mostly removed, but there was still fire damage to be seen. Men and a handful of women walked around with tools in hand. Most went to the basement while the rest worked on the bottom floor.

The building was only about five stories tall, putting it at average height compared to its surroundings, and the bottom floor suffered the worst of the damage. Considering that floor had been the moneymaker, the owner of the building had been eager to sell. Or it was because of the Blackgaters' fall from power or the gang war itself. Regardless, it cost a pretty penny to buy in its current condition and it was costing a pretty penny to restore.

Which was why I had Mr. Cobblepot footing the bill, however indirectly.

“Not yet,” Jack agreed. “But it’s getting there. It is still going to be a bar, right?” Jack questioned, giving me a look. To that, I could only shrug.

“It needs to be something that can justify a lot of traffic coming in and out. So, I’m thinking a bar would fit. Or a club,” I explained, though the latter was unlikely. Permits were an absolute bitch and so were the city council. I understood that people couldn’t just build whatever they want, but I cared a lot less about that when it was being a pain in my butt.

Jack nodded at that, watching some of the people work. My offers to join had been quickly rebuffed. Everyone working on the building was experienced in construction and since I was buying the materials, they decided I had done enough. Or they were trying to suck up to their boss. Or they didn’t want me screwing anything up. Honestly, it could be any of the above.

“Are you heading out soon?” Jack asked, sending me a look. To that, I nodded.

“I am. It’s just for a few days, two at the most,” I confirmed. Hopefully. I would be going to Brazil, picking up a mind-bogglingly huge amount of drugs, and then I would be turning right around and coming back home a little richer. And once I proved that I could move that kind of weight with no issue, then more offers were going to come my way. “I’m heading out in a bit, so I figured I would make the rounds to make sure none of you are going to fall apart without me.”

Letting out a small huff, Jack patted me on the back. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. You’ve built up a good thing here. That, and Tifa will pick up the slack,” He said, shooting me a look. I fought off a flush at his knowing look -- it wasn’t like our relationship was a secret or anything, but I was still getting used to people ribbing me for… dating… someone out of my league.

Though, I hid it with a shrug, “I hope so. And if she needs any help, I can count on you and Waylon,” I told him, earning a serious nod.

Then Jack cracked a small smile, “I wouldn’t have ever guessed this was how things were going to turn out when you showed up in that alley with a six-pack and some cupped noodles. I was bracing myself for a long winter, and now…” He laughed and shook his head. “For thirty years, winter has been something to fear. Now I’m almost looking forward to it. Just to see how different it is.”

I fell silent at that. Jack didn’t talk about his past much beyond alluding to the fact he spent most of his life on the streets. He didn’t seem ashamed of it either, but I still didn’t want to press. Still, it struck me odd that he spent so much time on the streets. He seemed resourceful enough to get himself off the streets, or move on to a better city. Jack just hadn’t.

I didn’t ask. If he wanted to share that story, then he would bring it up on his own. Everyone had their secrets. Me most of all.

“I thought you guys were going to rob me for a bit,” I admitted, offering an apologetic smile. Instead of getting angry, Jack just let out a small laugh.

“Oh, we were thinking about it,” Jack confirmed. “If you had a jacket or something with you, then we probably would have. I just didn’t have it in me to rob you blind when you clearly couldn’t take care of yourself.” So, looking particularly pathetic had saved me?

I looked away, glancing down at the remnants of my coffee. A lot had changed since I first arrived in Gotham with nothing but my clothes and what was in my pockets. From sleeping in a sewer with a handful of bills to my name. Now, a handful of months later, I was technically a millionaire, I owned a building, 7th Heaven was flourishing, as was Sainthood Enterprises. Sainthood flowers was growing to the point that we needed more florists and the front aspect to it seemed to be going smoothly.

Sainthood Construction was up and running -- their first job was to restore the building and their second was to start on the tunnel. We had a rough map planned out and it was progressing at 7th Heaven and Lucky 13, as some had named it. Everything on the verge of flourishing. The momentum was swinging my way, and once I got the ball rolling, then it wouldn’t stop.

And that made me suspicious as all hell. Hence me making the rounds.

But, beyond that…

I knocked back the last of my coffee and the awful taste of it woke me up more than the caffeine. Setting the styrofoam cup down, I patted Jack on the back as I got off one of the few bar chairs remaining. "Well, consider it all good karma then."

"I don't think that's how karma works, but I ain't complaining," Jack pointed out before he gave me a pointed look. "Stay safe out there. If you run into any trouble, run away from it, not towards it. I know it's a big job for you, but it's not worth your life to complete it."

Yeah, it sounded like I wasn't the only one who noticed my bad luck.

Though, to that, I could only shrug. "You don't have to tell me twice," I said, really hoping that the trip went without issue but I was preparing myself for the worst. "Hold down the fort here for me, yeah?"

"Will do. By the time you get back, you won't recognize the place," Jack promised. I glanced around at the people diligently working and they all seemed to know what they were doing. Or, if they didn't, they were good at hiding it. Two days… yeah, two days should be enough to put on the finishing touches.

"Look forward to seeing it," I told him, offering a nod. And with that, I said my goodbyes to Jack with another pat on the back. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I stepped out of the building and through the yellow caution tape meant to keep people out. Once I did, I stepped out into the streets and saw snow drifting down from the sky.

Already it was starting to gather on the sidewalks in small thin piles where people didn't regularly walk over. There was a bitter chill in the air and every breath was visible. At midday, it was a high of twenty degrees. At night it would dip into the negatives. Despite what Jack said, it was shaping up to be a cold winter. More So than normal, especially this early on.

Starting to walk, I headed towards the train station. As I walked, I heard the crack of gunfire in the distance followed by police sirens. Since the kings had fallen, every gang was trying to rise up over the others. Gangs that had been suppressed by the Blackgaters and gangs that were moving in. The gang war had been bad before but without a clear target to fight against, everyone was just fighting each other. It was pure chaos.

As if to prove my point, a speeding car raced by as it weaved through traffic. Not a second later, a handful of cop cars followed behind. I watched them until they rounded the corner before I shrugged and kept walking-

"Vergil?" I heard a familiar voice speak up and I looked over to see it was Preston, the man who gave me twenty bucks on my very first day in Gotham. Seeing him caught me off guard, especially so suddenly, but I guess we weren't that far from the route he walked to and from home.

"Preston?" I returned, blinking as I looked at him. My brow furrowed a bit as I noticed his bloodshot eyes and the dark bags under his eyes. "How are you doing? It's been a while," I said, sticking out a hand that he shook.

"I'm good, I'm good. The neighborhood seems to be falling apart, though," He said and I did my best to ruthlessly crush whatever guilt I felt over being responsible. "Just heading home now -- my job got hit with a drive-by, so…"

God damn it. "Is everyone okay?" I questioned, frowning deeply at the news. It was easier to accept that I brought chaos to the streets when I didn't know the people that were being affected by it. Especially someone who had helped me unprompted. I had paid back the twenty several times over, but Preston was a good person and I didn't want him to suffer because of my action.

"Oh, yeah, no one got hurt. I think it was just a show of force by some gang called the East Enders. But the building was pretty well shot up, and so was the equipment. It's going to be a bit until everything returns to normal," He said, his smile looking a little forced(.) It didn't quite reach his eyes. It gave me the feeling that the truth wasn't so optimistic, but from what I heard, I could only assume the worst.

The East Enders… I hadn't heard of them, and by the time I was done, no one else would have either. "I'm sorry to hear it. What did you do?" I questioned, already deciding I was going to help. I was in a position to. Even if he just needed money.

Actions had consequences. That was a fundamental truth that could not be argued. But, where I could, I wanted the consequences of my actions to help people like Preston -- who just decided to spot someone some money because they looked like they needed it -- and protect them from the negatives of my own actions. Like starting a gang war to protect 7th Heaven.

Preston shrugged, "I was in software development. Senior QA, er, quality assurance. Basically, the company I was with could get hired to make apps or software tools for phones," He explained.

Was. He was let go from his company.

"Oh," I said, somewhat stunned. "That's actually perfect -- I was actually looking for a company to start developing an app idea that I had," I told him, earning a thoroughly perplexed look. Which was fair because this was quite the coincidence and things too good to be true in Gotham often weren't true. "I mean it. I've been looking for a while, but I know less than nothing about coding, so I had no clue what I needed for the app."

Preston still seemed suspicious, but I could see the cogs moving in his head. "I'm not trying to pry, but…" He trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

I knew what he was hinting at. The first time we met, I had looked like someone that was at the end of their rope. The second time, I had been able to repay what I owed him. And now I was offering a job. He'd be an idiot to not be a little suspicious.

"I took out a risky loan," I admitted to him, making his eyes widen a fraction. "But it paid off. And then some." Sort of. I was still millions in debt, and it was a white lie that I was out of debt. "So, I'm looking to make more money pretty much. I figured phone apps would be the ticket since everyone has a phone."

"Oh, I didn't know that," Preston said, and there wasn't any way for him to know. "Uhh… I guess if you could send me a proposal, I can look it over for you? If it's something that can be done, then we can talk about developing it?" And contracts and money. He didn't want to come off too strong, but there was an intensity to his gaze that I recognized all too well. He had found a lifeline and he wasn't going to let go.

I nodded, "Sounds good to me. Give me your phone number and I can send the details over," I told him, taking out my phone while Preston scrambled to take out his. After a quick exchange of numbers, I offered a lopsided smile. "I have to head out, but I'll get you the details later today."

Preston nodded, a smile of relief on his face as he tucked his phone away. "I'll look forward to it! Thank you for this, Vergil -- I never would have thought that something like this would have happened when we met," He admitted.

"Call it good karma," I dismissed. Preston opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the sounds of gunshots. Both of us looked in the direction they were coming from, these sounding much closer than the previous batch. My smile fell to turn into a deep frown before I looked back at Preston, “We should probably get off the streets. I’ll see you later?”

Preston nodded curtly, “Stay safe, Vergil.” He said before he walked past me with a sense of urgency, likely wanting to hole up in his apartment until the streets calmed down. I watched him for a moment before I turned to do the same, power walking to the train station. My vest and clothing protected most of my body from stray bullets, but knowing my luck, I would get head shot.

Still, that was a lucky break for me. I had a few dozen different gacha games and the like on my phone. I could write out a framework of what the games would become on my flight to Brazil. Another possibility I hadn’t considered was ‘creating’ IPs. I could only imagine how well a less convoluted Fate series would do. Another thing I had to check on because the last thing I wanted was to get sued because I hadn’t checked well enough and ended up accidentally stealing an IP that simply went by a different name. Or existed and just wasn’t popular.

Walking into the station, I saw it was busy. Fewer people were taking cabs and walking because of the weather. And, because of that, the dozen guards that 7th Heaven had posted at the entrance went unnoticed. Three of them were leaning against the wall, cardboard in hand with a hat in front of them. Two others sat on a bench, another three on another while the rest mingled. Some looked rougher than others, while some blended into the crowd.

As my gaze roamed the crowd, I could pick out the ones posted easily enough. I caught their gaze and returned the respectful nods sent my way as I walked towards the tunnel. Each of them were armed. And each of them either had military experience, or they were getting trained. What happened with the Blackgaters wouldn’t happen again.

Though, their duty was more to give early warning if anyone came, and if a group tried to walk down the tunnel to attack 7th Heaven, they would follow after to hit them from behind.

Dropping down into the tunnel after a train departed, I felt a few curious glances at my back but no one said anything. The walk to 7th Heaven was a short one by now, my feet used to leading me home. I saw the additions that were made to the entrance of 7th Heaven. At the tunnel were sandbags stacked up and there were more guards posted at the entrance. Six of them, three on each side, and all were armed.

One had a clipboard, taking basic information to give us an idea of how many people were coming and going. The woman who had been the first to step forward to guard the place met my gaze and offered a deep nod as I walked by. I returned it and turned my gaze to 7th Heaven.

It had changed again. It wasn't as crowded as it was before to start with, but the homes that formed along the tracks were no longer makeshift tents or hovels made of cardboard. Now they were made of wood and plaster. Curtains still marked the doorways, but short ladders also led up to a second story on top of the base. The buildings were short and forced to follow the curve of the tunnels, but it offered more room.

Each had their own flare -- some were painted, others weren't. Others had decoration and others were left bare. The shapes and sizes vary, but they were mostly uniform as they stretched towards the platform and beyond it. The platform itself had been upgraded as well. Cleaner, the tables, and chairs weren't looted from the dump, the bar was richly decorated and areas were marked off for food preparation.

Two weeks and I barely recognized the place. From the people -- their ragged clothing repaired, to the fact they all looked like they had recently bathed by using the upgraded facilities… and they all looked cleaned up because of a once-homeless barber offering free haircuts. My eyes were drawn to the far end of the platform where a tunnel was being carved out. Dozens of people worked tirelessly to push the concrete, then dirt and stone back.

Two weeks and there hadn't been a lot of progress there. The tunnel needed to be wide, about as wide as the tunnel leading to the platform, possibly wider. The tools that I gave them helped, but it couldn't be denied it was a tall order.

A sigh escaped me as I headed into the train car. There were fewer curtains to make room in the past two weeks. There were still some, but as the housing got better, more people left the train car. So, now there were only ten or so rather than the couple dozen. Jack was one of them along with Carla, Amanda, Revy, Tifa, and me.

Waking to the end of the train car, I pulled back my enhanced curtain to view my room. The bench that served as my bed got an upgrade, and there was a makeshift shelf drilled into the walls that carried a few odds and ends. Under the bed was a duffle bag also filled with some odds and ends -- I couldn't carry everything in my cards anymore. I had over fifty but that number just seemed so small counting the things I knew I needed. Like weapons.

Putting them in containers cut down on the space, but to use them I would have to take the item out of the container, then use it. It just wasn't always practical. My hands dipped to my deck and I shuffled them and unsealed the card that I wanted. A contact holder appeared on my bed and I wasted no time popping it open. Using a small mirror, I put the contacts in with minimal difficulty and blinked a few times.

It took about a month of grinding, but the contact lenses finally reached the rank I needed. It took thousands of them, tens of thousands for each eye, but the base was good enough. And now it was time to test them out for real.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small dot and upon focusing it, I saw a UI pop up. The options it had were simple -- begin recording or stop recording, zoom in or out. Basic options. I had hoped I would have gotten stuff like heat sensing and night vision, but it would seem I would need to grind specific items to get that function. All I had to do was look at the for three seconds or look at the x in the UI's corner for a second. Simple.

"If only they weren’t such a pain to make,” I muttered to myself as I began to peel off my clothing. The curtain was enhanced to absorb sound. Anything less than a shout would be lost to those on the other side. Each batch of contacts cost about five hundred bucks to get, and it took dozens of batches to get one B-Rank contact.

Though, it did ring a little hollow complaining about money when I had eight million in cash. It was just eight million seemed so very little compared to my expenses.

Grabbing my mask and sealing it away, I walked out of the train car and looked over the crowd for one final person I had to see before I left for a couple of days. Since she wasn’t behind the counter of the meal area, there was only one other place I could think to find Tifa. And when I walked down the other side of the tunnel that ran by 7th Heaven, I saw that I was right.

Tifa stood in front of a handful of people of various ages. The youngest of them looked to be around the age of thirteen or so. Tifa stood in a familiar stance on some boards with mats hammered into them before she threw some basic punches. “Every action has a wind up. Every punch and kick. Focus on your enemy's center, but don’t be distracted by it. You will see their shoulders move when they try to hit you and you’ll see their hips and knees move to kick you. When you can identify an attack, you can block or avoid it.”

She was giving basic self-defense lessons in her free time. The little that she had. Unlike most jobs, running this place wasn’t a nine to five. It was an all-day thing. Tifa was a core pillar to 7th Heaven -- I was just the idiot behind the wheel, but she was the backbone of the place. I saw it everywhere, mostly in how people looked at her like she was too good to be true.

Her gaze drifted over the small crowd of a dozen or so. I offered a smile as I leaned against the wall, hoping that she would end the lesson so we could get some quality time together before I had to head out. She smiled back, letting my hopes soar before she ruthlessly brought them down to earth by speaking, “How about a demonstration? Vergil? Would you mind?”

“Saint Vergil?” I heard someone say as all of them turned around to look at me with wide eyes. The only one that wasn’t was the thirteen-year-old kid who looked like he was glaring at me. I paid them no mind as I shrugged off my discomfort with the nickname that I was hearing more and more often. I’m not sure where it started, and my best attempts to end it weren't doing a single thing.

“I guess not,” I agreed, thinking that this wasn’t what I meant about quality time. Tifa and I hadn’t had sex, the most we’ve done was more heavy petting, but it was mostly caused by a lack of time. I wasn’t hoping to lose my virginity or anything, I just wanted to have a private moment. Emphasis on private.

Walking forward, I took my place in front of Tifa and saw that she had a smirk on her face. Yeah, she knew exactly what she just did. Swallowing a sigh, I put my hands up, matching her stance. She nodded, showing that she was ready, and I stepped forward as I threw a picture-perfect jab at her. Not that that stopped her from snatching my wrist as the fist raced towards her face before sharply twisting to throw me over her shoulder.

I landed with a grunt, not really surprised. After a few months, I got used to getting my ass handed to me by her. The only real difference was that there was something to cushion my fall.

“Takedowns are more advanced, but the principle of them is the same -- if your opponent is flat on their back, then they can’t chase you if you use the opportunity to run,” Tifa said, keeping hold of my wrist as I laid limply on the ground. “But the important part is that his shoulders telegraphed his punch. His fists were in my field of vision, so I could follow them. These are the absolute basics. Now, I want all of you to try -- just be careful.”

The group broke off into pairs, practicing the punches that they saw, and the holds. Though, they didn’t go through with them, just enough to give them a feel for what they were doing. I looked up at Tifa to see that she was still smirking at me, her grip on my wrist sliding up to my hand to give it a gentle squeeze before she pulled me up.

“Lessons going well?” I asked, standing back up, glancing at Tifa as she looked at those sparring with pride.

“They are,” Tifa confirmed. “I can’t really teach them how I was taught, but they’re doing pretty well. And we haven’t had any major injuries yet.” That was mostly because I was the test case when Tifa was learning what normal humans could handle. Like I had suspected upon our first meeting, Tifa wasn’t the kaiju KO'ing level yet. Though, she was still a lot stronger than me. If I had to guess her weight range, she could probably bench Waylon with relative ease -- so just outside of the range of feasibility of what normal people could ever expect to accomplish.

“Have a favorite student yet?” I questioned, sending her a flirty grin. Tifa knew exactly what I was insinuating and lightly punched me in the shoulder.

Her actions didn’t match the look she gave me, telling me that I was still the favorite student. “I suppose, but my best is probably him,” Tifa pointed out, gesturing to the youngest kid. The one that had glared at me. He wore an oversized red hoodie, with a matching red hat that covered most of his black hair. I watched him for a second, a bit puzzled by what she meant before I saw it.

I knew next to nothing about martial arts, but sparring with Tifa for a few months taught me a thing or two. But, mostly, it was the fact that he was surrounded by people who were fumbling, making the fact that he wasn’t stand out a fair bit.

“Should I be jealous?” I questioned, turning to face Tifa. She let out a small huff before she put her hands up, and I swallowed a sigh before I did the same.

“Maybe. You should try extra hard to make sure you still stay my favorite,” She teased right back, and that was motivation if I had ever heard it before. Wiping my smirk off of my face, I threw a punch at Tifa before following it up with a left hook. Tifa effortlessly dodged, taking it so very easy on me, and let me continue to get me used to combos.

A handful of months wasn’t enough to become a master martial artist. Not even close. Still, I got used to throwing punches and taking hits. I don’t think I would ever reach Tifa’s level, I just didn’t have the talent for it, but given the city that I lived in and the life I was living… that wasn’t an excuse to not give it my best shot.

Tifa’s leg shot upwards to deliver a devastating high kick, only for it to go harmlessly overhead as I dipped below. I dove in, attempting to knock her off her feet, but by the time I started, Tifa had already spun sharply, pivoting so she was once again facing me, and the opportunity had closed. She attempted to drive me back with a quick jab, only for it to miss me by a hair while I lashed out with a fist.

It caught her in her forearm, the red leather absorbing the blow. Tifa could have dodged or countered effortlessly. She didn’t because she knew that the biggest hurdle to get over in martial arts was the feeling of impact. People pulled punches instinctively, partly because of a survival instinct to avoid injuring yourself. The other part was… squeamishness, more or less. It took some getting used to -- intentionally hitting another person. Gloves, bats, and guns muffled the sensations, making them detached in a sense.

That had to be trained out.

I kept up my form and threw a probing jab at her and her forearm darted forward to accept the blow. My knuckles hurt, it was an odd thing but they didn’t seem to be made for hitting. If they were, a handful of punches wouldn’t make the bones ache. Regardless, I ignored it and continued, attacking and defending in equal measures.

And when Tifa felt like it was time for me to switch to defense, she decided without warning. A jab raced towards my face that I just barely managed to dodge before I was forced to block a high knee. Her knee slammed into my hands, and in that same moment, I felt hers grab onto my sweater. I knew what was coming, but the moment that it came, I was powerless to stop it as she sent me sprawling on my back. I landed with another groan that was followed by a sigh.

“You’re getting better Vergil,” Tifa said like she hadn’t been taking it easy on me. Instead of helping me up, she knelt down next to me, prompting me to push myself up. There was concern in her reddish brown eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you on your trip?” She questioned softly -- my trip was being kept a secret.

It was far too late to keep it quiet that I was a criminal that worked for the Penguin, but I wanted to keep it on the down low as much as I could. That, and I was hoping that I would be back before people realized I was gone. Things had changed in 7th Heaven and the satellite shelters, the guards first and foremost, but I didn’t know how my absence could affect things. And this wasn’t the time to find out.

“You’re needed here more. Revy will be with me just in case there is any trouble, but it should be a simple deal. I’ll spend more time traveling than anything,” I told Tifa. That was the hope. My deck was filled with weapons in case that hope for the best didn’t pan out. Tifa seemed a bit conflicted, but I offered a lopsided smile. “I can’t tell you not to worry. Just have a little faith that I’ll be back, okay? A couple of days. That’s it.”

Tifa leaned forward and pressed her lips to my cheek before pulling back, “It’s a promise then,” She decided before she grabbed my hands and pulled me onto my feet. As I stood up, I glanced over at the crowd to see them still practicing. All except one person, who had been watching us. The kid.

As I rose, for the first time I actually saw his face. A face set in a near permanent scowl highlighted with bright blue eyes set into a glare. I recognized him. It was impossible for me to not to. I knew what he looked like because I went out of my way to learn to avoid exactly something like this -- me dismissing the idea that a member of the Bat family was here under my nose because I didn’t expect them to be.

So, what in the hell was Jason Todd doing here?