The Workings of Fate
Part Six: Consequences of Folly
Fortress of Solitude
Doc Savage paced restlessly. Beyond his daily exercises – the habit of which was too deeply ingrained to be disturbed – he had abandoned his routine. The presence of Xavier in the Fortress opened up various scenarios, some of which were very unpleasant.
Doc had known for years about the hidden community of Homo Superior – Mutants. He was, after all, a kind of mutant himself, his bloodline affected by radiation from a long-ago meteor strike. But these younger Children of the Atom, the mentalists, bio-energetics, ferals, field manipulators, shifters and euteratoids, were often harmless and peaceable people. Except for a few, they wished only to be left alone, treated as ordinary people were. Governments, on the other hand, saw them either as a resource to be utilised, or a menace to be exterminated, or both. Many ordinary people were simply afraid of what they did not understand.
If the Government had decided to terminate Xavier, it meant that they had either given up hunting Mutants, captured another mentalist who might be more cooperative, changed their methodology, or found another means of detecting Mutants. The first was unlikely in the extreme. The second was possible, and Clarks' 'rescue' of Xavier might simply mean that the Governments new tool was less effective. The third implied something like mandatory registration of Mutants, along with compulsory DNA testing of all citizens – something which, given the intensely individualistic and anti-regulatory mindset of many Americans, might lead to riots or even civil strife. The fourth was the worst-case scenario, but was rendered less likely by the fact that Clark had, again, taken the risk of snatching Xavier from the Government.
But it was not like the ever-cautious Clark to take unnecessary risks. Unless he was so sure of ultimate success that he considered that risk negligible. If that was the case, then Doc might be forced, for the first time in his long life, to break his given word and to place people he cared about in harms' way without their knowledge and consent. After all, he had the means of escape from here, he always had. He had not told his son every secret of the Fortress. He had waited this long in the hope that he might find a means to resolve his moral dilemma. Also, of course, he was reluctant to confront his son, not through physical fear, but because the boy, despite his weakness, was his own flesh and blood.
Quite suddenly, the lights dimmed. Not total darkness, but a kind of twilight that made shadows deeper and larger. Doc reached out.
Charles?
Something is here. Xavier's mental 'tone' sounded almost afraid. Whatever it is, I can't see through it, not with this device attached to me!
Hang on! Doc told him. I'm on my way!
He had made no promises about remaining here if the Fortress came under attack. Doc went over to the main bookshelf and lifted out three specific volumes. Reaching behind them, he slid a panel aside and turned the handle concealed there. A section of shelves nearby slid smoothly backwards, opening a gap he could slip through. He smiled to himself; Clark was a little too modern in his thinking, and this old-fashioned system of counterweight and flywheel had completely escaped his electronic scans.
Doc was now in a service corridor, a little-used one. Here, he noted, the lighting was normal. Doc knew every inch of this place – he had designed the Fortress himself, after all -and it took him only a short time to make his way to the Detention Area. In the past, this had only been used rarely, to contain particularly dangerous or valuable captives in his fight against crime. Even now, there was only one occupant.
Charles Xavier was locked in one of the small but not uncomfortable rooms that served as cells here. A slender man of medium height, in his forties, with a fast-receding hairline and dark, fathomless eyes. He was wearing a regulation orange jumpsuit with the same air of casual elegance he gave to the bespoke business suits he usually wore, but around his neck was a heavy, collar-like device that was currently blinking with red lights.
"Glad you could make it, Doc." He said by way of greeting. "How are things out there?"
"Too dark and too quiet!" Doc told him. "The guards have gone, and I saw nobody on the way here. Clark kept a lot of staff here, unlike me, but they all seem to be elsewhere at the moment!"
"If you can get this thing off of me, I might be able to locate them." Xavier said.
"I designed that collar." Savage said. "I'd encountered mentalists before I met you, and not always on friendly terms. Turn around."
An ordinary man would have required tools, but Docs' fingers were more than sufficient to the task of removing the fastenings. Xavier sighed with relief and rubbed his neck.
"Better!" He allowed. "Now, let me see…. The staff are leaving, all of them! They seem to think that the place is being closed down and evacuated for some reason. They're taking what they can carry of their personal possessions and boarding the vehicles kept here."
"Without taking us with them?" Doc asked.
"They've forgotten about us, it seems." Xavier said. "I'm not sure. They're not thinking clearly. It's as if their minds are being…clouded…in some way."
A brief trilling sound escaped Docs' lips, then. "What about my son?"
"He's in the Conference Room, too terrified to leave it." Xavier said.
"Terrified?" Doc asked. "Charles, my son is many things, not all of them good, but he is no coward!"
"I know." Xavier said. "But this is no ordinary fear. Whoever or whatever is doing this to him is bypassing the neo-cortex and reaching into the reptile brain, stimulating the most basic survival urge, making your son believe that to leave is to die!"
Again the trilling. "We'd better go to him." Doc said. "There are things that need to be said. Follow me."
Hidalgo Main Compound, outside Metropolis
Superman must have heard Logan coming, despite the noise of battle, because he twisted aside at the last minute and Logans' claws only sheared off a portion of the cape. Superman spun round fast, landing a punch on the smaller mans' jaw that sent him flying away to crash into a nearby vehicle. Normally, the powerful construct would have turned away at once but the pain that had shot though his hand as he struck was new, and unusual. He glanced at his hand. Incredibly, the skin of the knuckles was broken and bleeding, though it was healing fast.
He looked at his erstwhile attacker, and was shocked to realise that the man was still alive. Not only alive, but conscious and moving, getting to his feet. One side of his face was a bloody ruin where the punch had landed, but even as Superman watched in shock, it began to repair itself, hanging rags of flesh curling back up into place as the torn tissue healed at incredible speed. But for a moment, a gleam of slivery metal had been visible. Superman squinted, calling on the extra dimension of his vision, the one that allowed him to see hidden enemies and find their weaknesses. He saw his opponents' skeleton, it was opaque as bone would not be, coated in the same metal as the door he had been unable to break. The long, razor-keen claws were likewise coated.
Then the man was moving again, incredibly fast. Slowed by shock and confusion, Superman managed to turn aside, but not quickly enough this time. Icy pain shot through him and he bent double with an unaccustomed howl. Straightening, he looked down and saw three long, deep cuts across his abdomen, bleeding freely. Had he been a fraction slower, he would have been eviscerated. As it was, the cuts would heal quickly, though not as quickly as his adversary obviously could.
The man was watching him, in a fighting crouch, claws held ready.
"I can keep this up all day, bub." He said in a gravelly voice. "Can you? Can you heal fast enough to survive the next hit? Or the one after that? 'Cause I can!"
Superman focused his Burning Gaze on the man, only to see him dodge nimbly aside and come in for a counter-attack. Superman evaded this, though by inches only, while his attacker easily slipped the return punch.
"You gotta do better than that, big fella!" The little man taunted.
Superman looked around for something, anything, that would give him back the superiority he was accustomed to. There! A man, crouching over another, working on his wounds. The white armband with its red cross was irrelevant to Superman – another soft human notion that Savage would purge this world of with his help. He caught the man by the back of his clothing and held him up like a shield.
"Surrender!" He commanded. "Or I crush this one, and another, and another!"
Logan finally realised what he was facing. Superman, most feared and powerful of the Fantastic Four, fist of the Justice League, was no more than a common bully. Faced with someone who could actually hurt him, who did not fall at the first blow, he hid behind the weak.
He looked at the medic, his eyes confirming what his nose had already told him. It was Bruce Banner. But not the Banner he had seen before. The man with the serene eyes and unshakeable calmness. Something was growing in Banners' eyes; something Logan recognised because he'd experienced it himself.
Now Banner spoke, in a calm but strained voice.
"Please put me down." He said. "If you don't, I can't be responsible for what will happen!"
"What will happen," Superman replied, "is that if your beast-man friend does not surrender, you will die! He will be responsible, not you."
Banner looked at Logan. "I did try to warn him." He said. Then he closed his eyes and when he opened them again they were emerald green and blazing with anger. His uniform shredded as his body expanded in size, freeing him from Supermans' grip. Underneath he wore a black leotard that appeared to expand with him. The creature that now stood in Banners' place was at least eight feet tall, but appeared squat due to his massive breadth of shoulder and almost grotesquely muscled arms and legs. His skin was a dark, glossy green and to Logans' eyes he radiated power.
Superman was still open-mouthed when the green colossus spun round and struck him a thundering blow that sent him flying back into the wreckage of a Hidalgo fighting vehicle. With a roar of rage he sprang clear and flew at the creature, fist extended, knocking it several yards away. Almost immediately, the green man got to his feet.
"What are you?" Superman demanded.
The giants' voice was deep, but understandable. "Banner calls me the Hulk." He replied.
"You speak, brute?" Superman asked.
"Yeah." The Hulk replied. "I ain't dumb, I'm mad, and gettin' madder, Fancypants!"
With that he snatched up a nearby assault vehicle, which he used to block the heat beams Superman sent at him. The tank burst into flames, but the Hulk, unbothered by the heat, hurled it at his opponent. Neither the weight nor the flames were an issue for Superman, but the sheer force of the throw knocked him out of the air, and by the time he had tossed the wreckage aside, the Hulk was almost on him. Superman tried to grab for the Hulks' wrists, and the two locked hands.
Now it was raw strength against raw strength. The Hulk was slightly taller, but not enough to give him significant leverage. At first, the green ogre was clearly straining to keep up the pressure, but then things began to change. The Hulks' arms stopped trembling and became rock steady. Then Superman began to sweat, to breathe more heavily; finally, his arms began to twitch and tremble.
Logan suddenly grasped what was happening. Supermans' strength was enormous, yes, but it was finite, there was a limit to it. The Hulks' strength, however, was somehow tied to his anger. Logan could feel, could scent, the rage pouring from the creature, growing more intense the longer his opponent resisted him. As his anger grew, so did his strength, and there seemed no limit to either.
In desperation, Superman unleashed his eye-beams into the Hulks' chest. They burned through the leotard, only to play uselessly on the green skin. Not quite without effect, however, because the Hulk growled and suddenly twisted one arm. There was a sickening crack and a bellow from Superman as his left arm snapped. The Hulk caught him up, then slammed him down with such force that the earth trembled and Logan was thrown backwards. He got to his feet and scrambled up the rim to look down into the crater the impact had formed. The Hulk was straddling his opponent, pounding him with terrific blows. Superman was already a bloody mess and clearly could not take much more. As the Hulk raised his fist for what might well be the finishing blow, Superman opened his bloodied mouth and said: "Krypton!"
There was a blaze of light and a concussion powerful enough to knock the Hulk back. When Logans' vision cleared, he saw the Hulk standing over a perfectly normal man. A man Logan recognised as Clark Kent, owner and CEO of Planet Media.
The Hulk looked up at Logan. "This one ain't worth my time." He rumbled. "He's all yours. I gotta go help the Blackhawks before Banner comes back." Then he was gone, leaving the crater in a single prodigious bound.
Kent was staring at Logan, then he began to talk, to gabble almost.
"You're Weapon X aren't you? Listen, you don't need to kill me! He's not coming back. He can't unless I say the word, and I won't! "
"What're you talking about, Kent?" Logan demanded.
"Him!" Kent told him. "The construct. Superman. He's stuck in there, in the 'pocket dimension' – that's what Gargunza called it. He's not conscious, and there's no time in there. He won't die but he won't heal, either, not in there. He was dying already, that's why he let me say the word. He was thinking I'd go to the clinic here and bring him back to be treated, but I won't!"
"How does it all work?" Logan wanted to know.
"Shit, I'm no scientist!" Kent said, then tapped his temple. "There's a device here, embedded in my brain tissue. It can't be taken out without killing me. There's another in his brain that was put in there when he was being grown. They're linked, so that if I say the word, the bodies switch places, but my mind is supposed to stay here and control the other body. Only it doesn't always work that way, because there's some of him still in there, and it comes out when I fight. If the device is destroyed, the other body comes back, into the same place, and that would kill us both.
"Look, I'll cooperate. I'll tell you about all of Savages' plans. You just have to let me go. I'll retire, live off my investments somewhere far away, whatever you like. I'll never say that word again as long as I live, and when I die, he'll be stuck there permanently.
"What d'you say? Can we make a deal?"
Logan had heard enough, and he had no tolerance for slimeballs like this one. A shot through the heart kills a man just as dead as one in the head. He cut the head off the corpse with his claws – it needed to be kept somewhere safe, there might be a back door into the device.
By the time Logan had stashed Kent's severed head in the Blackhawk command vehicle and returned to the field, there was little left to do except clearing up. The devastating combination of veteran troops, the Hulk, Iron Man and the Sentinels had been too much for the now-leaderless Hidalgo forces. The sudden silence of Ultron had been the final blow, and the Blackhawks were in the process of disarming those who had surrendered rather than fled.
Logan located Banner seated in the doorway of one of the vehicles, sipping an energy drink.
"He doesn't get tired," he told Logan, "but the change takes it out of me! Sorry you had to see that."
"I seen worse." Logan allowed. "What happened?"
"Same as you." Banner told him. "Black project. We were supposed to be developing a gamma bomb: flood an area with high-intensity, short duration radiation that would kill all the people, but leave everything else intact. They said it was to get insurgents out of towns and villages, and let the civilian population come straight back without having to rebuild everything. Not that I believed that, but they were paying me and I was doing my own research on the side.
Anyway, the guy in charge – General Ross -got impatient, so he requisitioned a dozen prisoners from Death Row and put them in a house in the desert, then let off a small version of the prototype device. I found out about it and went over there, I figured if I was onsite, they wouldn't detonate. Only they did. Everyone there died except me, and I woke up in the base hospital with everyone trying to find out why I was still alive. Then Ross came in and told them to euthanise me for dissection. "Executing a saboteur", he called it. I got mad, the Hulk came out and trashed the place! Next thing I know there's a bunch of guys in suits rounding everyone up and the project is closed down. Their boss -never knew his name – handed Ross a dishonourable discharge and me a cheque for half a million dollars. Told us both to get lost and stay lost. Ross started his own PMC. I did medical work in South America until Fury offered me a job with the Blackhawks. At least with them, the Hulk can do something useful, and he's smart enough to know that."
"The guy who gave you the cheque." Logan said. "Tall, thin, chain-smoker?"
"That's him." Banner allowed.
Logan nodded. "Same dude who shut down Weapon X. Ross got lucky, they took Stryker away in cuffs."
Then Fury and Iron Man arrived.
"Just got a call from Batman." Iron Man told them. "They want us inside."
Fortress of Solitude
Clark Savage III was indeed in the Conference Room. He was seated at the head of the table, where he could see all of the entrances. In his hand was a heavy, old-fashioned Colt revolver, which he lowered as soon as he saw who was at the door.
"Dad?" He said. "How did you get out? Where is everybody? What's going on?"
He was fighting the fear, Xavier noticed, but he was still sweating, and kept glancing from one door to another.
Doc didn't answer his son directly. Instead he looked around him and said.
"Are you here?"
In response there was a high, chilling, laugh that seemed to come from everywhere. Then, quite suddenly, a figure appeared at one of the other doors. Savage immediately fired, but the form vanished and the laugh sounded again.
"Put the gun down, Clark!" Doc commanded. "Even I couldn't hit him, so it's pointless!"
Reluctantly, Savage obeyed. The form reappeared, and this time entered the room. A tall, slender man swathed in a black cloak, a red scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face and a slouch hat pulled low over cold, merciless eyes.
"Savage." The voice was a keen, cutting whisper. "Journeys end in lovers' meetings."
"Cranston." Doc replied coldly. "I suppose I should be grateful that you didn't kill the staff. Have you mellowed over the years?"
"Not noticeably." The Shadow replied. "But you should know I never killed anyone who didn't deserve death. Those guards, technicians and domestics did not merit death."
"We always disagreed on that." Doc noted. "I was always prepared to give someone a chance to change."
"Scum will always remain scum." The Shadow told him. "I know what evil lurks in the hearts of men, you refuse to see it.
"Nevertheless, this is your home, your family. I have achieved my aim. The rest is for you."
With that, The Shadow simply vanished. Doc shook his head.
"He's gotten more powerful." He remarked. "Back in the day, I could still sense him around, but now…nothing!"
"He was never actually here." Xavier said. "That was a projection. He accomplished everything without ever setting foot in this building!"
Hundreds of miles away, in his book-lined study, Lamont Cranston opened his eyes and gave a grim smile.
Doc turned to his son.
"You've done terrible things, Clark. Why?"
"Because you wouldn't!" Savage replied. "You know, I know, your Mutie friend knows, how bad things are out there, how bad they've always been. Why didn't you do something!"
"I did as much as I could." Doc said. "I wish I could have done more. I hoped and dreamed that you would help me to do more!"
"You did nothing!" Savage snarled. "You nibbled around the corners, taking out a few troublemakers, people who had bigger dreams than you allowed yourself. The Shadow is right, you know, scum are just that, scum! They need to be gotten rid of. What you never dared admit is that it's the water that lets the scum rise to the top. The ordinary people you so love, they're the enablers! The lazy, stupid, self-indulgent sheep who let the wolves roam free, then bleat when they get eaten! You, you just let them wander, then ran around attacking the wolves!
"What you should have done, what I'm trying to do, is to herd them! Gather them up, stop them wandering, put them to work. Weed out the bad stock and the diseases and the hidden predators and the stubborn, disobedient goats.
"Dad, nobody was better suited than you to run this nation! You had the money, you had the reputation, the skills. You could have done what I'm doing, especially during the war! You didn't even learn the lesson from Germany, or Britain! Democracy fails. It will always fail when the voices of the stupid and ignorant can drown the rest of us out!
"We're better than they are, Dad! Stronger, smarter, longer-lived. We were made that way for a reason! We have a right, a duty, to rule them, to make them be what they should be. Because they're too lazy and cowardly to do it for themselves.
"The fact is, Dad, you've already lost! What I've started can't be stopped. I'll be President in November, and President for life in four years' time. America will finally become what it was meant to be. You can either work with me, or go back to your rooms. The same applies to you, Professor Xavier."
"I'm afraid you're wrong." Xavier said. "With that collar gone, I have all my abilities back, and while you were talking I've been reaching out. I've found a fellow Mutant, one I can trust, and it seems you have upset the wrong people, Mr Savage.
"You base in Hidalgo is in the hands of the Blackhawks, and a team of scientists and journalists are currently examining the work caried out by your Doctor Gargunza. Your compound outside Metropolis has met a similar fate.
"I regret to inform you that your wife, along with her alter ego, is dead, as is Mr Kent. Your computer systems have been hacked and all of your plans, everything you have done and intended to do, will very shortly be in the public domain. I suspect that, by November, you will be facing nothing but a very long term in prison!"
Savage stared at Xavier for a long moment. "It's the truth." He said finally. "One thing about mentalists is that they don't lie – they can't for some reason."
"Oh, we can." Xavier admitted. "But once you start, it distorts your perceptions. Because to lie to others, you have to lie to yourself first, and when you do that, it corrupts your ability to see the truth in others."
"I'm sorry about Diana, son." Doc said sincerely.
"Don't be." Savage said flatly. "It was only a matter of time before she decided to move against me, anyway, and I'd have had to have her killed. We married for power, not love, but power isn't something you can share easily, is it?
"So, what happens now?"
"We'll give you some time to collect your thoughts." Doc said. "Say, half an hour to decide how you're going to handle this." He paused. "That was my father's gun, your grandfather. If you won't listen to me, perhaps you should consider what he might have done in your position?
"Come, Charles."
It was actually only about fifteen minutes later that they heard a single shot from inside the room. Xavier nodded to Doc, who sighed.
"We have a lot to do." He said.
The Core
"Fate actually contacted me some time ago." Pat Savage was saying. "She, or it, seems to be a cloud-based AI on a mission to protect humanity. But she does it by dropping hints or passing information to the right people at the right time. It was Brainiac that allowed Luthor to find out that Gargunza was working for Hidalgo by hacking the CIA surveillance on him. But it was Fate that sent Codename V to that island, where he got the information that allowed Lex to put the pieces together.
"And, of course, Fate will prevent Brainiac from getting into Ultrons' systems and stealing Hidalgos' secrets, while her…friend…Jarvis can snap up any unconsidered trifles he might like."
"Except the Qys data." Batman noted.
"Except the Qys data, which will be deleted, totally." Pat agreed. "Too damn dangerous!"
"I'm wondering if the Qys were actually all that smart, anyway." Iron Man commented. "I mean, until Logan here told us what Kent said, I had no idea what happened to Wonder Woman. But why trust your life to a device that fragile? I'd have thought the Qys would have shielded the thing better!"
"The Qys didn't use that system." This was Fate. "They engineered their own genes to create a special centre in their brains that had the same functions, except that it allowed them to choose between any of potentially hundreds of bodies.
"But humans aren't Qys. Gargunza had to MacGyver those electronic devices up and he could only ever make them work one-to-one."
"That's what happened with Miracleman, I think." Moran told them. "Part of the exercise involved trying to jam communications – see if Miraclemans' ESP could compensate. I remember he could sense the jamming signal, then everything went black."
"Whole thing was a damn fool, idea, anyway!" Logan growled. "Kent said he wasn't really in control of Superman. How does that work?"
"It's sort of how it's supposed to work." Fate told him. "Part of the experience for the Qys was actually feeling what it was like to be someone, something, else. But they're far more advanced mentally than humans, so they could regain control any time they wanted to.
"Did you have the same problem, Sergeant Moran?"
Moran shook his head. "Nah. Miracleman and I were pretty much on the same page regarding what we thought we were doing, for one thing. For another, he was a lot less aggressive."
Just then, a screen lit up.
"Doc Savage to Control. Is anyone there?"
"I'm here, Clark." Pat responded.
"Pat?" Doc seemed surprised, but shrugged it off. "Never mind. Are you in charge?"
"No, sir." Fury put in. "That would be me. Colonel Fury, commanding the Blackhawks. The compound is currently under our control."
"How bad is it?" Doc asked.
"Casualties on both sides." Fury answered. "Lot of wounded, but not many dead, luckily. Most of your combat vehicles got trashed. We lost a few of ours, and one Sentinel robot, you may have to pay Stark-Wayne for that. Not much damage to the installation itself, the fighting was pretty much all outside. No civilian casualties apart from Dr Prince and Mr Kent. The Ultron AI is offline permanently, I understand.
"Is there anyone here I can hand over to?"
"Yes." Doc answered. "My cousin Patricia Savage will be acting CEO for now."
"Clark," Pat said, "what happened with your son?"
"He did the only thing he decently could, in the circumstances." Doc said. "Pat, I want you to make sure that everything, every last thing, that my son did becomes public knowledge. America needs to know how fragile our democracy is.
"There are still things I need to do here, but I'll return to Metropolis in a few days. Look after things until then. Savage out."
"I'll start to pull my people out." Fury told Pat.
"Please don't." She replied. "Consider the Blackhawks hired to protect Hidalgo assets as of now. I'd also like your advice and assistance in rebuilding our security department."
"It'll be an honour." Fury replied. "But Stark-Wayne will want their Sentinels back."
"Of course." Pat turned to Iron Man and the Batman. "I suppose you gentlemen will be heading back to Gotham?" She said. "My cousin and I are in your debt. If you ever need anything, get in touch." Then she looked at Logan. "Colonel, would you consider taking up the job of Security Chief?"
Logan shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not your nine-to-five kind of guy. I've been around a long time, and most of it's been busy. I was resting up, until this thing started. I came back to do one job, and it's done. I'm going home."
Cranston House
"Thank you both for coming." Lamont Cranston said. "To begin with, of course, I want to congratulate you both on a job well done. Clark Savage III was a most dangerous individual, and the parts you played in his removal were vital."
"It was very different from hunting down muggers and serial killers." Bruce allowed. "Still, it had to be done."
"Yeah." Tony agreed. "But a menace like that only comes around once in a lifetime, right?"
"Once, Antony, I would have agreed with you." Cranston said. "I dealt with many villains in my day, but only one -Shiwan Khan – could be classified as a global threat.
"But the world is changing, and in some ways not for the better. It may be that others like Savage, or potentially worse, will arise in your lifetimes. Also, knowing what we now know about the source of Gargunzas' knowledge, we can no longer ignore the possibility of threat arising from beyond this planet.
"By all means continue with your work here, you are needed. But maintain and cultivate the new alliances you have formed with Weapon X and the Blackhawks, and seek out others as well. A time may come when you will need allies, or they may need you."
"We need to start thinking globally, rather than just about Gotham." Tony said.
Cranston nodded. "The Stark-Wayne company is already an international business, so you have the beginnings of a platform. Build on that.
"However, I now have to tell you that I will no longer be able to advise you, at least for a time. I am leaving."
"Leaving?" Bruce said. "Are you sick or something?"
"Quite the opposite." Cranston stated. "It is simply that I have gone as far in my studies as I can here. There is more, much more, to learn, but to do so I must return to where I first learned my skills. How long it will take, I have no idea, but someday I may be able to contact you again. Rest assured, I shall be watching over you both. The Shadow always knows!"
Gotham City
"The matter is a delicate one." The Kingpin was saying. "Clark Savage III had numerous allies and agents throughout the country, many of whom cannot be removed by official action for political reasons. Certain states are, as you will be aware, increasingly hostile toward Federal action.
"I have therefore taken it upon myself to deal with the matter through various local, independent, operatives. Which I why I have asked to speak with you, Miss Kyle. The people involved are all wealthy and corrupt. Corrupt enough that Commissioner Gordon, a man I admire, would find it hard to remove them, and it is not in my interest to have the FBI or Secret Service tramping around the city.
"They are, however, prime targets for your particular Robin Hood way of working. You have effectively ruined such individuals before, after all."
"Most of these are on my list anyway." Selina Kyle replied. "With a little extra support, I could move things on more quickly."
"Then do so." Fiske replied. "Speak with Mr Cobblepot, he has been instructed to offer you advantageous terms.
"There is also another matter. It seems that my esteemed colleague Mr Luthor had managed to insert a number of agents into my organisation. Now while I have taken care to remove and replace my people in LexCorp, he seems to think that I have not detected his people. The mans' ego will be his downfall, I believe. But I do not wish to cause consternation among my own people with a purge.
"It is well known, Miss Kyle, that you have a…cordial…relationship with the Batman. If you were to tip him off about certain people, he would save me the trouble of explaining matters. Batman-related losses are a part of doing business in Gotham."
The green eyes flashed. "I won't put him in danger!" She snapped. "This better not be a trap!"
"I assure you it is not." Fiske told her. "The Batman is one of my best assets. An efficient predator improves the prey, after all."
"Then we have a deal." Selina agreed.
After she left, Fiske went back to his desk and picked up a folder with a sigh of relief. Back to business as usual.