Chapter 5: Power is Power
"Conflict is inevitable. Combat is optional," ~ Max Lucada
The ever drawling life of Bruce Wayne would perhaps be appealing to most; between the charismatic playboy lifestyle and accomplished, prosperous business prestige, many a civilian would commit any number of felonies to be where Bruce is now. The covert vigilante recognises this, and despite the fact that his less than legal crime fighting lifestyle often takes precedence over his public persona, Mr Wayne nonetheless endeavours to dedicate as much time as he can to his family business. Unfortunately, that does not mean that the thirty-five-year-old has altogether gotten his public persona's act in shape. Many a time Bruce has slept through a business meeting, been late, and entirely forgotten work functions that demand his presence. He has become more adept juggling the two sides to his life over the years, and rarely commits such unprofessional stunts anymore, but, every so often, the billionaire still finds himself running late to work, or taking an unsuspecting nap through a particularly insipid meeting.
Today, just happens to be one of those days.
Bruce didn't fall asleep during this board of director's conference thankfully, but the Caped Crusader may as well have been, for he doesn't think a single affair raised and discussed is actually stuck in his head. That may have been due to the triviality of the issues voiced, or because his mind has otherwise been preoccupied with more pressing matters.
The Dark Knight hasn't found himself in a situation this precarious for quite some time. More Gotham players than usual are involved in the core predicament, and yet it isn't as simple as two, three or even four opposing sides on the playing field. Every one of the culprits involved hold their own agenda close to the chest – of course they do, it's Gotham – but some agendas clash with those of their own supposed allies.
Roman and Harvey hold one of the longest lasting rivalries the Gotham criminal underworld has seen, and because Roman is the one responsible for the current crisis, between his recent arms dealer business and calculated, petty hits against Harvey, generally, they would be the primary concerns of the Dark Knight Detective. However, arms dealings are Oswald's playing field, and the Penguin is undoubtedly slighted by Sionis' new rivalling black market, as well as everyone who has supported his new adversary's enterprise. The only one who hasn't is, of course, Harvey, and despite his strained relationship with the Iceberg Lounge's proprietor, they would unquestionably be together in their present enmity against Roman. As established, Oswald would hold no love for the other crime lords – Falcone, Markovic and O'Reilly – for taking their money elsewhere, but Harvey has made more than a small amount of effort to maintain a healthy relationship with the other mob bosses, and despite their difference of opinion when it comes to Black Mask, he likely and hopefully wouldn't jeopardise the peace between them.
The situation is, altogether, entangled and messy. And somehow, Evangeline Winter has managed to place herself right in the centre of it all.
Markovic, Falcone and O'Reilly respect her enough to leave her alone, and by no means hold any intentions to provoke her – as far as Bruce is aware – and yet all three have reportedly been dealing with the crime lord who has attempted two hits against her life in one night. Unaware where Harvey currently stands with Miss Winter, the vigilante assumes he holds no ill will, and intends to manipulate her into his favour, if him allocating two men to save Eve's life last night is anything to go off. It would make sense; Roman Sionis' number one adversary and the woman he wants dead the most teaming up to take him down, and if the private investigator's previous association with Edward Nygma is any indication, she likely wouldn't be above declining aid from a notorious, dangerous criminal.
Despite that, she agreed to stay with him.
Admittedly, Miss Winter has attempted to work more with him in the past, but due to Bruce not wanting her to become too entangled in such a perilous, depraved criminal underworld, he either limited her involvement or turned her straight down altogether. By now it's quite evident that she doesn't wish to let this life go anytime soon, so the billionaire may as well keep her close, and ensure that she doesn't steer too far into the lives of his eminent adversaries. Whilst he's sure she will never take a life, there are far too many other lines she could cross, despite her best intentions.
With these musings buzzing around his head, Bruce distractedly nods at his personal assistant, Rachel, sat at her desk dutifully, on his way to his own office. Ever polite and professional, the brunette smiles back, attentively greeting "Good afternoon Mr Wayne."
Afternoon? Is it the afternoon already?
Rachel spends the better part of a minute catching him up on other matters than require his attention, before Bruce can finally return to his office, not having been in the large workspace that overlooks most of the city since fairly early this morning.
It is with this thought in mind, and the eventual recognition of an unexpected occupant in the room, that the crime fighter takes a second to pause and wonder; how long has the mercenary Nathaniel Winter been awaiting his arrival?
The hot, afternoon, end of spring sun devours every corner of the room in light, the billionaire's wall of windows behind his desk allowing it to beam down onto every surface in the office. The Dark Knight hasn't seen the Black Dog in broad daylight before, only at night, in passing shadows and weak, faltering streetlights. The mercenary sits peacefully at Bruce's desk, in his chair. Dressed casually in a grey button up Henley, a battered black leather jacket and some simple cargo pants, the elder Winter sibling appears out of place in such an opulent work space, and nothing like the murderous lawbreaker he usually is.
Wayne's eyes drop to the criminal's chest, where a plain silver cross hangs around his neck, identical to Eve's. Opposite ends of the moral and legal spectrum, and still, somehow, the Winter siblings hold such an infallible familial bond. The more they talk of one another and the more Bruce appraises them, the more he comprehends just how strong it is.
And yet, as of now, Bruce decides he would much prefer to arrive to his office and instead find the mercenary's younger, lovelier sibling in his place.
"Bruce," Nathaniel prompts the conversation to a start, hushed with large arms drawn together, calloused hands clasped in his lap.
The vigilante silently closes his office door behind him, to make sure Rachel catches nothing of the exchange. "Nathaniel."
"Been a while," the mercenary continues, expression blank, and sentences kept short as per usual. The Batman recalls that about him, never having been a man of many words. The Black Dog is a nice change of pace from tiresomely talkative crooks like Nygma, Joker and Harley.
"It has," Bruce warily continues, not removing his gaze from Eve's brother. Stepping further into the room at a snail's pace, the billionaire keeps an air of ease whilst remaining on his toes, offering the mercenary the smallest of empty smiles. "Haven't been hired to kill me again, I hope."
"Not this time," Nathaniel murmurs, yet the deep, baritone words carry clear as day across the room, dark brown eyes almost unblinking in their piercing, intrusive stare, fixed immovably on the Dark Knight. "Eva wouldn't be too pleased if I did."
"I imagine not," the Caped Crusader dryly replies, lips in a thin, tight line. "Eve has a lot on her plate already. Unnecessary complications wouldn't help her case right now."
Something in Nathaniel's expression darkens, enough to put Bruce on a sharper edge. "Eve. Hm." The first name basis sits sourly in the eldest Winter sibling's mouth, jaw wound a little tighter. "Is she safe?" Is the query that Nate eventually opts for, deciding to overlook the endearing name drop, and filing that thought away for a later date, one where he can talk to his sister, alone.
"She is," Bruce firmly answers, not a drop of hesitation painting his tone. "Wouldn't listen when I told her to stay away, so she's with me now. No one will find her, I promise."
"Hm," the Black Dog grunts, moving for the very first time since the Dark Knight has entered the room. Rising to a slow, leisurely stand, the mercenary takes his time ambling around the desk, fingers ghosting over paperwork and the austere timber. He maintains eye contact with Wayne the entire time. "Eva does that. Not listening. It's why you shouldn't speak empty promises that involve her."
The Batman's brows furrow, regarding Nathaniel mildly perplexed and stern. "I don't make promises lightly. She is safe."
"You can tell me you know where she is? Right now. This minute," Nate sternly asks, coming to a smooth stop in front of the detective, the criminal three inches taller than the billionaire, and glaring down at the vigilante that holds his sister's intrigue.
Bruce hesitates, because despite the fact she should be at the manor, he simply doesn't know that for certain. One thing he does know, is that the PI detests sitting still; a quality that refutes the likelihood of her remaining at the manor for the duration of the day. Perhaps a call is due, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises surmises.
The question is left too long without an answer, resulting in an unidentifiable twitch of Nate's lips. "No, then. Good. A complacent Eva calls for more concern than a meddlesome Eva. Could be dangerous, but she's not stupid. Eva could talk the devil out of damnation, and charm wolves to dance with hares."
After a brief bout of mild surprise at hearing the longest stringent of words to ever leave Nathaniel Winter's mouth, the tiniest of genuine smiles ghost Bruce's lips for but a second, his reply uninflected yet genuine despite the stiffness of standing before the morally grey mercenary. "That wouldn't surprise me, honestly."
As if recalling his company, the glint of fondness saved only for his sister dies out behind Nathaniel's expression, the taller man bringing himself back to the world around him. A breathy, near inaudible grunt escapes him before he murmurs "This is your city. Eva is my sister. She likes you, I don't. But I respect her, and she respects you. So if you find Sionis first, fine. He goes, your way. But if I find him first…" The mercenary looms even closer, a breath away from the hero, gravelly tone dipping several octaves deeper in steely, caged ire.
"I'll feed his hands to Croc, for Waylon grows hungry in his sewers. I'll send his tongue to Falcone, for he found his promises so pretty. I'll give his balls to Dent, who took too long to grow a pair and kill the bastard. And I'll save his mask just for you, because you find it easier to look at yourself in the mirror hiding behind one, than you do without."
Accustomed to far more nefarious, menacing threats and displays of grim and unhinged violence, the Dark Knight doesn't blink in the face of the Black Dog's promise. However, the tension in his frame multiplies tenfold. The Nathaniel Winter's anger doesn't lash out like fire; unpredictable, consuming, easy to ignite and difficult to control. No, his anger – like his name would suggest – creeps in like winter ice; gradual, looming, inevitable when it draws near, and impossible to stave off once it arrives. Ice is calculated, controlled, doesn't threaten to set alight everything that surrounds it in its devouring fury. The Joker is rather like fire in that respect, his chaotic an unpredictable nature difficult to grasp, and burns anyone who tries. But Nathaniel's ice is contained, only freezing those who wrong him. Clever, restrained, premeditating adversaries are always more difficult to pinpoint, and always concern Bruce the most. Not the super powered humans or aliens, or mob bosses with the most influence and men, but clever individuals who play a game of wits with every intention to win.
Strength, abilities and power is power. But knowledge and intelligence is control. Raw power – the strength to lift a truck, shoot lasers from your eyes, run at the speed of light or throw lightning from your fingertips – may offer a sense of authority or superiority, yet not always control. But knowledge and acuity, the ability to understand and know a person or situation, to pull at strings of marionettes, to toy with truths unrevealed and scandalous in nature, that is power through control. When it comes to power through control, it matters not if you can throw fire, lift twenty times your weight or are the best martial artist in the world, because even if the meekest, weakest and most ordinary of people inherently understand you enough to pinpoint your every move, or possess the knowledge of a secret or fact that isn't public for good reason, then what use is fire, strength or violence? Contingencies are often in place, so even if you do neutralise the threat, information can still get out. Power plays through wit and knowledge, if applied correctly, can cripple the most powerful of people and nations. That is what power through control is capable of.
It is because of this, that after many a week and month of considering the two Winter siblings, Bruce can finally identify a commonalty between them; control. Evangeline Winter is by no means a physically threatening individual, but her disposition and ability to unearth and effectively utilise information through the power of language is what grants her control. Nathaniel Winter, on the other hand, certainly has power in terms of physicality. Bruce has brawled the mercenary before. Yet he also has power through control; for controlling his own emotions, tone and imposing disposition to the degree he does, as well as all the intel digging he undertakes before an assignment – something the Dark Knight was first hand to, and how Nathaniel knows of his identity – has granted him control in different aspects, and by consequence, power.
Bruce Wayne however, is not easily intimidated. In matters where the Batman is concerned, power is null and void. The vigilante has taken on people, aliens, meta humans and supernatural beings of all kinds of power, and has eventually come out on top in the end each time, despite an occasional temporary failure or misstep along the way. Nathaniel Winter does not intimidate Bruce Wayne, yet does give him cause for concern over Roman Sionis. The billionaire has never taken a life, and criminal or not, believes murder is never the answer. The Black Dog has offered him an ultimatum; get to Sionis first, and the elder Winter sibling leaves the crime lord alone, fail, and Roman Sionis is as good as dead.
Hardly even blinking in the face of the formidable mercenary, Bruce stiffly regards him with an impassive expression, steadily informing "You know it won't come to that. I won't allow it to."
Nathaniel grunts, also unflappable in behaviour. Begrudgingly, the mercenary holds an inkling of respect for the vigilante, in spite of their shaky history and conflict of morals and interest. That inkling is barely a drop to the ocean of admiration and love he holds for his sister however, and Roman Sionis has not only hurt her, but attempted to murder her. Twice. Eva and him have their disagreements, but they would move mountains and conquer seas for one another, and Roman Sionis would see her dead.
Death would be a mercy, one far too kind, in comparison to what the Black Dog has in store for the Black Mask.
"Never asked for permission," Nate murmurs after a moment of eerie disquiet, resolute in speech and conviction. "I'll never ask for forgiveness either."
Hm, I suppose I'll have to apologise at some point for the abrupt departure, though I doubt that will do much to curtail his frustration, the North Carolinian notes to herself, regarding the temperamental crime boss she spent the past few hours with. Two Face had a matter that required his attention, and excused himself for twenty or so minutes. Could have been more for all Eve knows, but after the first twenty, the PI decided to slip out as well, pardoning herself with a tiny white lie about needing the bathroom. In actual fact, she found herself discreetly escaping out the back, having attained what she requires as of that moment, and fulfilled her sense of obligation towards the felon for the time being.
Honestly, Evangeline would have properly said goodbye and left through the front door, if it wasn't for the fact that Harv would have only assigned men to tail her once again. She can't afford to jeopardise Bruce, Alfred, Dick or Tim, even Miss Gordon, on the off chance that she may be at the manor. The fact that Harvey and Bruce used to be the closest of friends once upon a time would, perhaps, even result in an inkling of possessiveness or jealousy, after all, Two Face has already exhibited territorial signs, through more than one demonstration.
"Plus, he considers you his PI, 'cause of how you two made that deal."
"He doesn't like being told no. As far as you, and he, and all of his men are concerned... you belong to Two Face."
His own men admitted the possessive proclamations, and Two Face himself did nothing to deny the accusations when they first talked earlier today. Oh, the bounds of potential jealousy that could arise if he knew of my current living arrangements, Eve amusedly ponders, hailing a taxi on a street corner a couple blocks away from Hell's Gate. Heaven forbid I start dating someone. Between my brother, Bec, Edward and now Harv, I'm likely going to end up a chaste nun for the remainder of my days.
Having left her number on a small note in his office, Eve expects a text or call at any point in time soon, so when her phone begins to buzz as she settles in the back seat of the cab, said taxi beginning its journey towards Wayne manor, the call comes as no surprise. The caller, however, is more of a surprise.
"Alfred?"
"Ah, Miss Winter, I was hoping you would answer."
Eve gently smiles amidst her small, perplexed frown, loosening the knot between her brows. "Always for you Alfred. I'm actually on my way back to the manor now. Was there something you needed?"
"I was actually calling to determine your whereabouts my dear," the elder man admits, mild shuffling occurring in the background. "I'm leaving the manor myself in a few minutes to pick up Master Drake from school, and was wondering if you required collection anywhere yourself."
"You're a gem Alfred, but I'm quite alright. However, to save you some time and distance, I don't mind picking up Tim from school," Eve offers, enjoying the idea of participating in something a little more mundane after the past twenty-four hours she has had. "I haven't had much of a chance to spend time with him yet, besides the one-sided conversation from this morning's breakfast. I imagine he's more awake now, however."
"Only if it isn't too much of a bother Miss. I haven't quite got around to tonight's dinner preparations yet."
"You and Bruce have given me a safe place to lie low whilst all of this blows over, this is honestly the least I can do," the detective earnestly assures.
"Very well Miss. You'll find Master Tim at Brentwood Academy at Bristol, across the river from Gotham. I'm sure he'll be quite pleased by the surprise. He seems to have taken a shine to you."
Moved by the sentiment, Eve bashfully finishes the phone call after a few more words are spoken between the two. Apologising to the driver, the tolerant taxi attendant changes course for Brentwood Academy, the private investigator spending the next half an hour wading through Gotham traffic and peaceful radio music.
Not too far from the school, the raven haired woman finally receives the call she has been anticipating, noting the unknown caller ID and failing to hide her impish grin. Sliding her finger across the screen to answer, Eve draws the phone up to her ear. "Hm, you took longer than I assumed."
"Where the fuck are you?"
Evangeline clucks her tongue admonishingly, glancing out the window with an even wider smile. "I don't usually value crassness, but with you, it's beginning to become endearing."
"Cut the cute shit and tell me where you are."
"Cute? You think I'm cute? That's lovely, I don't think I've been called cute before. As for my whereabouts, sorry Harv, I value your dedication to seeing me stay alive and appreciate all you have been doing for me, but I can't just stay locked up in a pretty penthouse or office, under guard by your men. Despite the fact you have taken to calling me 'Princess', I refuse for you to lock me away in some tower."
The private investigator can detect the growing annoyance seeping through the phone, and hear a muffled grunt of aggravation as a result of her unwillingness to comply with his request. "I mean it Princess, Sionis has guys everywhere. I need you in my reach." Coming from anyone else it perhaps would have been charming, but with Two Face, nearly anything he says sounds like a threat.
"You don't give me enough credit Harv, after all we have been through," Eve playfully chides, spying the school at the end of the street. "I swear to you, if I find myself in trouble, or around people I don't trust, I will call you. In the meantime, I'll keep you updated with my findings, see what – between the three of us – we can piece together." Referring to Harv and Harvey as two different people has become shockingly instinctual by this point. It may hinder any progress their psychiatrist at Arkham has made towards their delusions, but quite frankly, after having spent time with both of them, it is difficult for Eve to see them as one person now. It truly does feel as if she is conversing with two starkly opposed personalities.
A displeased rumble can be heard, but evidently, Two Face seems to choose his battles wisely, and this isn't one of them. "Fine. But if you so much as get a wrong look from a stranger in the street, call me. Don't need any bold fuckers thinking they have a lucky shot at killing Gotham's precious fucking Guardian Angel, and murdering my chance at taking Sionis down for good."
"Your priorities cease to astound me Harv," the detective responds, tone the closest it will ever get to being sarcastic. "Take care, stay safe."
The criminal's grumble is slightly more uncomfortable than irked this time around, the super villain ending the call with a "Yeah whatever, you too."
Click.
Glancing down at the phone now in her lap, another sincere, warm smile works its way onto Eve's lips, before pocketing the grin alongside her phone and turning her attention to the driver, who has adeptly pulled up in front of the school. "I'll only be five, ten minutes at the most. The teenager I'm picking up has a free class last, so I'll hunt him down and be in and out before you know it."
The driver patiently nods and lets the North Carolinian know to take her time, he knows how distracted teenagers can be, commenting on his own fifteen-year-old daughter before waving Evangeline off. Thoughtfully closing the car door without too much vigour, the raven haired PI approaches the vast, towering, college-like academy, wondering where to even begin with finding the teen, who wasn't even originally expecting Alfred to come pick him up early, according to the butler.
Mister Drake reminds me of myself when I was younger, Eve fondly remarks, pausing outside the imposing front doors of the school. So I suppose, the question I should ask is; if I were young again, and passing time at school, where would I be?
Reviews:
vampgirliegirl: Thank you! Plan to, despite the waiting periods between chapters. Hope you liked this one!
: Thank you so much! They are veryyyy fun to write, especially with Eve. She gets a bit cheekier around them tbh.
DannyPhantom619: Aww thank you! Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)
A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter in general! It's a bit shorter, but I want to try and update a bit more regularly, even though I've just started university and likely wont. Still, the thought it there!
Thanks for reading and that's all for now, bye! :) xxx
~T.L