A/N: Yes. The time has come where I finally write a Batman fanfiction. How exciting! How incredible! How...extremely daunting! This is a universe that is near and dear to my heart, and I am going to do everything I can to portray it accurately. I got inspired for this particular story when re-playing Arkham City, and I found again the reference to a character called the Broker. I loved that he bought and sold real estate for the Rogue Gallery's use, and it got me wondering... With so many colorful characters in Gotham, how does this man manage to interact with so many and stay alive and-what I assume-sane? This story will explore that factor as well as provide character studies for many of the Rogues. The plotline here is going to begin with Origins, detail a little of Asylum, and continue on with City. And with any future games there are.

Finally, I found very little information about the Broker's backstory or what his character is like, so I've taken the liberty to invent most of it myself. I hope it agrees with you. And I hope you enjoy this project as I will no doubt enjoy writing it.

Fandom: Batman (Arkham Origins/Asylum/City)

Title: The Broker

Prologue: Sherman Fine

When Sherman Fine was a little boy, he believed he was destined for a lackluster life. After all, his parents had decided to saddle him with a name like Sherman, and to his admittedly unimaginative younger self, he couldn't imagine that his future was capable of a shred of greatness. He never humored dreams of becoming an astronaut or a cowboy like his fellow peers; rather, Fine always envisioned himself stuck in a stiff cubical job, wedged between similar hunchbacked workers with glazed-over eyes. It wasn't glamorous by any means, but it did offer stability, which was what he'd really wanted.

Much of his younger self's cynicism was a direct result of where Fine and his family had decided to call home. Gotham City was not operating at its best when Fine was a boy. Some of his earliest memories involved his parents screaming to each other about how Gotham's Golden Age was long dead and gone. His lack of creativity aside, Sherman was a sharp enough kid to realize his parents weren't screaming blame at each other; it was desperation.

And then, his father lost the restaurant that had rested comfortably in the Fine family for the past three generations, first to bankruptcy, then to debt, then to the mob. That was the moment Sherman realized you couldn't reach too far or for too much. Not in Gotham City. Even when the Wayne family attempted to stimulate the city's economy, Sherman recognized their sudden, violent deaths shortly after as a way of reminding himself of that fact. Going against the tide in Gotham was certain suicide. You had to ride the tide, had to cut your losses when you could, or drown.

Ironically enough, Sherman earned a scholarship to Gotham University in his senior year of high school for completing a yearlong Economics project. With his father dead from a mob hit and the family income quickly dwindling, Sherman knew a generous government donation was the only way he'd breach the barrier of higher education. By this time, Sherman had obtained a bit more ambition; a cubicle job no longer appealed to him. He required another career option, one that would allow him to blend in and fade into the background like a cubicle position would, but it would pay him more money to do so.

Law school was immediately eliminated. As were the humanities and much of the sciences. Instead, Fine slipped into the role of an Accounting major like it was a well-worn shoe, and as predicted, he quietly excelled there for two years.

But Gotham's tide changed again, and with it came something frightening. Something dangerous. A complete and utter game-changer.

The Batman.

And as if one weirdo in a cowl wasn't strange enough, others soon followed, each of them just as elemental as the Bat but nowhere near as heroic. Others who called themselves things like Black Mask, the Penguin, and Killer Croc, beings that sought out power, control, and destruction.

For the first time in his life, Sherman Fine found himself positively inspired.

So much so, that in the following semester, Sherman Fine quietly switched his major from Accounting to Real Estate, with a double minor in Business and Psychology on the side. His professors were all stunned at his sudden show of ambition, displayed most obviously at his switch from taking 14 hours a semester to over 20. But he had to do it. He had to get out, both from the university and into the city.

That's where his future was, after all, a future that hadn't even existed until they had. Coincidentally, that's where the money was too, and with it his stability.

After all, how can a villain even hope to combat a hero without having a decent place where he can safely plot his demise? Even more importantly, how can a villain carry out a plot without an available stage to perform it on?

Two years later and at 25 years of age, Sherman Fine graduated with top honors in Gotham University's School of Business with a degree in Real Estate.

That same day, Fine shrugged off his graduation robe and adjusted his black tie, tightening and straightening it so it rested proudly against his crisp, white shirt. The robe he quickly replaced with a black suit jacket, and Fine nimbly covered his muddy brown eyes with a stern pair of black sunglasses. A minute change, much less theatrical compared to the other costumed villains in the city, but it was enough. As simple as that, the Broker entered the scene in Gotham City.

And as predicted so many years ago, Sherman Fine remained but only in the background, unnoticed and unremarkable behind the sunglasses and the suit. It was the one thing the tides hadn't changed.

That was exactly how Fine liked it.

License in hand, the Broker steadily made contact with the criminal underworld in the city, and just like that, business boomed. With a market at an all-time high in demand but little in supply that wasn't forced or otherwise convinced, the Broker appeared as a godsend. At last, there was someone at their disposal who would gladly locate, buy, and sell property for them without allowing things like red tape or morality to get in the way. As for Sherman, he dealt amiable with the very same mobsters who'd disrupted his family's life. The way he looked at it, he owed them by assisting any way he could with their shady dealings. If the restaurant hadn't been seized, if his father—their family's only source of income—hadn't ended up with a bullet in his skull, Sherman wouldn't have humored higher education at all. He would have ended up in that cubicle job, still invisible but ultimately amounting to nothing.

Yes, the mob had his favor. But even still, Fine hoped for more. Craved it. He knew there were more exciting, more fulfilling deals to be made besides securing a warehouse for drug storage or a new penthouse for some higher-up caporegime to not use. Sherman Fine, however, was nothing if not patient. Hasty actions and frenzied scrambling had never appealed to him. He felt that the moment he showed such self-serving emotion to secure new business would be the same moment he would lose all of his current progress. And there'd be no hope in getting it back. He'd let the Batman seize all his assets before he allowed that to happen.

So the Broker waited.

And he waited. Waited but never wavered.

It was a fruitful philosophy, because eventually, good things did come to Sherman Fine. A month before Christmas, the Broker received a call that completely changed the way crime was conducted in Gotham by placing him firmly and permanently in the background.

Staring down at the phone in his hand, the Broker registered that the number was unknown. He was already intrigued. His direct number was hard to come by, having most of his calls fielded to him by a number of assistants he had on his payroll. Before he answered, he made a note to attempt a trace on the call to determine who was being so careful to contact him.

"This is Sherman Fine. State your business."

The voice that greeted him was young, male, and coated with arrogance. "I know exactly who you are, Mr. Fine. What I want to know is what you can do for me."

Possible narcissist, thought Fine about the owner of the voice. But he'd have to keep him talking or meet him in person to be sure.

"You have no introduction for me, sir?" said the Broker carefully. Scaring the man away was the last thing he wanted, though Sherman could tell he'd be a difficult customer.

"Oh, you'll know who I am soon enough," was the quick, confident response. Despite himself, the Broker raised his eyebrows in surprise. Very well, then.

"Then, let's not dance around each other any longer," he replied. "I'm certain you know what I specialize in, otherwise you would not have called. So what is it that you want?"

"So, you are as astute as they say. Always nice to know this city isn't completely full of morons."

Definitely a narcissist, the Broker concluded. Possibly an egomaniac as well.

The voice on the other end continued. "As you surmised, I need to purchase an estate. Nothing large. In fact, the less obvious, the better." That was surprising. The Broker had thought this man was the type who detested being ignored. Even so, his words were telling; they had crossed into the atmosphere Fine usually accustomed to deals where discretion was necessary. "Specifically, what I need is property that is difficult to locate and nearly impossible to break into."

"That shouldn't be a problem, sir. I—"

"I wasn't finished, Broker!" The man hissed into the phone, and the sudden venom it contained was enough for Sherman to forget any offense he may have normally felt at such an exchange. This abrupt change in character was too interesting. But just as quickly as it had come, the rage faded in the man's voice and the usual confidence returned. "In addition to passcode-only security, I need enough space to set up a number of surveillance monitors. But I know that's not a problem for you, Mr. Fine. What could be a problem is that I've heard you only deal with criminals."

The Broker knew that if anyone were watching him right now, they'd see his light-brown eyebrows peeking comically over his sunglasses. "You mean you are not a criminal, sir?"

The man scoffed. "Hardly. This city's underworld is a breeding ground for greed and stupidity. The only thing that makes it tolerable is knowing that the corrupt in Gotham don't even realize how idiotic they actually are, but soon they will. All of Gotham will know and will never let them forget."

"Last I checked, sir, blackmail is considered a criminal offense," ventured the Broker. He was assuming much, but from the way the man was talking, blackmail was a viable option. No wonder he needed a place to hide out for a while.

"Maybe so, Broker," the man said, and unmistakable pride and smugness tinted his voice. "But come Christmas Day, I'm sure you'll find out that the people of this city will greet it as a long-awaited gift. Something not even that ridiculous Batman idiot could give them."

Now they were getting somewhere.

"Well, you are quite right," said the Broker. "I normally only deal with criminals. But for you, sir, I'm willing to make an exception. I'm sorry for saying so, but the…opportunity to assist you is too good to pass up." Riffling through the stacks of paper on his desk with one hand was cumbersome, but he soon found the page he was looking for. "Let's see, ah, yes, I do have something available in Burnley that I think would suit you perfectly. It's not very large—only three rooms, one of which is hidden—and the property is only accessible by elevator. The entrance is also hidden. Someone would have to use a bit of force to discover it. I've got all the necessary paperwork here, so leave all the legality to me. All I need is your payment and signature, and it's yours."

"That's all?" said the man, disbelievingly.

The Broker smiled. "I get that so often. Really says something about the lack of efficiency around here." The two shared a brief laugh that was more cynical than humorous. "Do you have a preference for a meeting place? I imagine someone as busy as you would like this done sooner rather than later."

"Indeed, but if it's all the same, Mr. Fine, I will be coming to you."

Taken aback by the sudden harassment in the man's voice, Sherman almost failed to register his words. "I confess I'd be very impressed if you could find me, s—"

"622 West Henry Street. Suite 206, am I right?" Not waiting for a response, the man gloated, "Of course I am."

And he was, and the Broker was impressed. Nevertheless, a scowl of frustration marred the Broker's otherwise plain features. Having his location pinned down wasn't his idea of a smart business practice, even if it was just by one person. And especially if it wasn't on his terms. It seems a move was in order after completing this deal.

"Fine, then," said the Broker. "When should I expect you?"

"When you least expect it, I'm sure."

There was no telling what that actually meant, but Sherman could hear the truth behind it. "Fair enough." The Broker smirked. "You're quite a puzzle, aren't you?"

"Oh, I prefer Enigma."

The line went dead in Fine's ear. As for the results of his later trace of the call to yield any sort of information about his client's location, well… Fine realized too late that he really shouldn't have bothered.

He was still getting used to the fact that more people than himself preferred to live like ghosts in Gotham City.

A/N: And there's the start! Let me know what you think. I have the chapters outlined with what Rogues will be featured when, but feel free to make suggestions. If I don't already have them down, I'll find a way to add them in. And most characters will be featured more than once, so get excited!