Castling Part 4
"Come on, come on, kit. Please pick up."
The ringing stopped. Tobias hung up before the automated message could finish telling him to leave a message after the tone. He was starting to get worried.
Well, he had been worried for a while. Everything about Rick Johnson's situation was worrying. But they had been handling it. Rick was a smart kid and he trusted his network to help and look after each other.
Then he hadn't come back to one of the safe houses at night. He could have easily gotten held up, or needed to lose some kind of tail but he wasn't back by noon the next day either. So he called the first time. No response. He still could have been trying to get out of trouble so Tobias pressed down his worries and kept going with all the tasks that needed doing to run the Center.
It was now the next evening and Rick still wasn't picking up.
He hoped they hadn't lost him.
The phone rang in the middle of dinner.
Thomas had been carrying it in his pocket. He had put it there with the intention of giving it back to the young man (Rick Johnson according to the Wayne Foundation ID card they had found in his pocket) when he went to check on him that afternoon but a representative of Wayne Enterprises PR department had called in the middle of the day. Apparently, the many journalists who wanted a story about the shooting a few days ago were tired of waiting around and respecting their privacy after a traumatic event. The press had been hankering for a statement on the shooting. The PR department had gotten involved since. Even though none of them were actually really involved in the running of Wayne Enterprises anymore, they still were the owners of the company. So Thomas had been sucked into a long conversation about why they couldn't just get the information from the police about what had happened, and was eventually persuaded to give a short statement saying everyone was fine and could they please be left alone.
As a result, Bruce had been the one to take care of the afternoon check in on Rick and the phone hadn't been handed over.
The topic of conversation at dinner had been going over, once again, what they knew about the apparently real urban legend of the Court of Owls. Individually each member of the family, (including Alfred) recognized that repeating this information again was, to a certain extent, part of them still processing and convincing themselves that this was all real.
"They've been working in the shadows for decades to consolidate and maintain their power in Gotham. And they don't care who gets in their way to do it," Bruce muttered. He took a long sip of his soup then stared into the bowl.
"Involved in human experimentation. Presumably, this has something to do with their overall power goals." Thomas was eating slower than everyone else. His chosen spot for staring was the cabinet that displayed all the fancy dishes when they weren't being used.
"They tried to kill Bruce." Martha's grip on her knife hadn't let up since the conversation had turned to the Owls. She kept glancing over at other members of the family.
"They think killing Bruce will get them something they want," Alfred said, face stoic. It was a thought they had all had but no one had voiced yet. He seemed to be the only one who was eating his soup normally, except for a slight tremor when he lifted his spoon. He usually had enough control of himself to prevent that.
"Why?" Bruce dropped his spoon into the soup with a splash. "If they were going after Wayne Enterprises I'd understand. It's a large company, they're a large company... If their goal was control of Gotham that'd be something they'd want to consider. But we're not even that important to Wayne enterprises! I'm a doctor ! Heck! Most of this family is made up of health professionals !" He threw his hands up into the air.
"Killing someone is too drastic a step to have been the first plan." Martha frowned. "We should call Lucius. We need to find out if there has been anything odd happening at the company or any attempts at sabotage."
"If they truly are as extensive and powerful as they are made out to be, they're probably involved in business all over Gotham." Alfred mused. "I wonder if there is some way we can uncover what sort of connections they have. The majority of the police are completely corrupt but that friend of yours, Bruce, Harvey Dent. He's a lawyer. Do you think he would be willing to help look into any suspicious connections?"
"Almost definitely. And he knows some police officers we could trust. The new commissioner has been cracking down on internal corruption anyway." Bruce almost wanted to giggle inappropriately at the mental image of Sgt. Kate Riordan storming the Owls' headquarters, guns blazing before promptly causing an explosion (or two).
"None of that explains why they decided to get into human experimentation," growled Thomas, hand tightening around his soup until the whites of his knuckles showed.
Then the phone in his pocket went off and Thomas startled, nearly dropping his spoon right into his soup (it clattered on the floor instead). The generic ringtone echoed around the dining room as the rest of the family stared at Thomas, dumbfounded.
"Weren't you going to return that?" Martha asked.
"I was busy! PR called and they made it into this whole thing-"
"Are you going to answer it?"
"I don't-" Thomas scrambled to pull the phone out of his pocket.
"You should," Alfred said. "If it's the same person as before they won't leave a message and that young man's friends must want to know he's alright."
Thomas pressed the answer button. "Hello, the- uh- owner of this phone is unable to answer right now. Would you like to...leave a message?"
There was silence for a moment, then a deep male voice. "Who are you and what have you done to Rick?"
AN: Thanks once again for reading! If you'd like to contact us via tumblr, my handle is eastoniablogs!
