As consciousness slowly dawned on Tio, so too did a horrifying revelation.

He had no idea where he was.

The beginnings of panic began to clutch at his heart, and despite his limbs feeling like they were made of lead Tio shot up, head whipping around wildly. The room he had awoken in was fairly large, with cream-white walls and a floofy, pale pink carpet. There was an impressive chandelier hanging from the ceiling but the light coming from it was dim, making the room very dark since there seemed to be no windows. The room smelled heavily of cigarette smoke, and indeed wisps of foggy grey shrouded the entire room like a thin mist, adding to the darkening effect. He was currently laid across a sofa carved from white wood and stuffed with plush blue pillows, and a glance around confirmed that all the other furniture in here: the large round table in the centre, the mini-bar in the corner, even the picture frames on the walls, followed the same colour scheme: white, with dashes of dark pink and blue.

Slowly, his head still spinning slightly, Tio got to his feet. He could remember the heist that went badly wrong and his subsequent kidnapping after it, which led him to the conclusion that whoever had brought him here was perhaps not operating on the right side of the law. Given that, his best bet was to get the hell out of here.

There was only one door in the room, so Tio wasted no time stumbling over to it and pushing his way through. He emerged into a foyer with a similar colour and design as the last room, though this one was bereft of furniture but instead had a staircase and half a dozen doorways. What drew Tio's attention the most however was the enormous glass window pane that replaced one of the walls, offering a clear view of the night sky outside. Through it, Tio could see the skyline of a sprawling city filled with dark, gothic buildings.

"Where am I?" He whispered to himself.

"This is the one and only Gotham City."

Tio whirled around, a little squeak of fright slipping through his lips. Standing at the top of the stairs, where he could have sworn nobody had been a second ago, was a woman in a crisp white suit. She had jet black hair that fell straight down to her back and in a curtain that covered the left side of her face. If he had to guess from her skin tone, Tio would have said she was Italian, but her features had an ageless grace to them that made it hard to assume anything else about her. Her face was blemishless and had high cheekbones, giving her an almost aristocratic appearance, and the one brown eye Tio could see was highlighted by a plentiful amount of eye-shadow to make it look dark and smoky.

"To be more specific, we are on floor 36 of the Nightshade Tower, in Gotham Square." The woman continued, taking the steps down towards him at a casual pace. "I did consider springing for the penthouse, but that's just begging to draw unwanted attention. This place is a far better choice for remaining discreet."

A chill ran down Tio's spine. He knew of Gotham City's reputation, and in a place like this there were few legal reasons why discretion would be valued so highly.

The corners of the lady's mouth tugged upwards in a small, sly smile. "Relax. I mean you no harm. As you may recall, I am the one who helped you escape the long arm of the law after all."

"The phone! That was you!"

"Yes."

"Thank-…" Another realisation clicked together in Tio's mind. "Wait, you kidnapped me!"

The lady's eyes flashed with amusement. "Yes."

"I-… But-…" Tio's tongue floundered, unsure how to deal with the brazen admittance. He knew he should have been absolutely terrified right now, but the smooth decor and easy manner of the lady did a remarkable job of settling that fear down to a strong, but more manageable, unease. That being said there was a subtle strength to the lady's posture that ever so slightly threatened retribution for rudeness or anger, and given the display of power she'd already shown by bringing him here, Tio had no doubt that this woman was capable of backing up that threat.

"Oh, don't be such a baby." The lady teased, reaching the bottom of the stairs and striding over to the window next to him. "As first kidnappings go, yours was one of the most gentle. You didn't even lose a finger."

"That doesn't make it any better!"

The lady chuckled to herself, fixing him with an amused look. "But seriously, you have nothing to fear from me. Quite to the contrary: I'm actually planning to reward you. You really helped me out after all."

Wait? He did? Tio struggled to think back to the events of his ill-fated heist, which as far as he could remember had just been one series of disasters after another. Evidently the confusion must have shown on his face, because the lady took one glance and seemed to read it on his expression. She reached into her pocket, with one graceful movement pulled something black and woolly out of it, and deposited it in his hand.

"A balaclava?" Tio asked, turning it over in his hands. The more he looked at it, the more he recognised it as the same one he'd been given to wear for their heist. But nothing about it struck him as unusual. "What's so important about this?"

The lady's smile took on a sharp, predatory edge. "My dear, that may be the most important balaclava in the world right now. There are big changes happening in the world as a result of that little mask."

The lady turned to look out at the Gotham City skyline. Her hand dipped into her pocket again, this time withdrawing a cigarette on one of the long, thin holders Tio had only seen being used in movies set in the early 20th century. A lighter appeared in her hands, and the lady took a measured drag. A second later she blew, sending a spiral of smoke spinning through the air and crashing like a wave upon the window.

"I shall not name any names, for your sake just as much as mine, but not too long ago I was approached by a business belonging to client A." The lady began, her tone taking on the rhythmic sway of a storyteller. Her voice had an almost hypnotic charm to it, and Tio found himself giving her his rapt attention before she'd even finished the first sentence.

"Client A had, through trial and error, discovered a method to do what many believe to be impossible: conceal something from the gaze of the almighty Superman himself. Client A also needed some particular favours doing which fell outside of his preferred skillset. They also knew that said favours could easily be accomplished by another group, who we shall call Client B, and that Client B would be very interested in learning the method they had discovered. The solution seems obvious, yes?"

It took a moment of silence before Tio realised that she had been inviting him to reply. "Oh, yes! They could just exchange the information for the favours."

The lady smiled at him. "A simple solution, yet made infinitely more difficult by the fact that neither Client A nor Client B held any measure of trust for each other. Client B suspected the information to be a lie, whilst Client A dared not reveal it lest his requests for favours then be ignored. When it became clear that the situation was heading nowhere productive, a third party was hired to help the negotiations run smoothly. That someone was me."

"There were many days of talking: soothing wounded egos, tempering threats, all that diplomatic nonsense, but eventually a suitable compromise was agreed upon. Client A would arrange a demonstration to prove that their information was true, but would conceal the details as to how it worked. That information would be kept by myself, and finally revealed to Client B immediately after all the agreed upon favours had been completed." The lady took another drag of her cigarette, and smoke spilled from her mouth as she uttered her next words. "Can you guess what that demonstration was?"

The pieces all clicked together in Tio's head. "My heist?!"

"Correct." The lady agreed. "A mission set up to fail, starring expendable assets who unknowingly held the secret to hiding from Superman woven into their balaclavas, and all the while watched from afar by the clients and myself. All that was needed was confirmation that Superman could not see the faces of the assets behind their balaclavas." She grinned wolfishly. "And the demonstration went off perfectly, all because one of the assets had the common sense to flee once Superman arrived, ditch his mask, and was then able to get off the hook right under the man of steel's very nose! No room was left for doubt, and so after months of hard work the deal of the century finally went through! All thanks to you."

"I-…" Tio didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to feel. The fact that he'd been set up to fail from the beginning was a painful stab of betrayal, but was made all the more confusing since he still had no idea who had set him up in the first place. It was also equal parts terrifying and humiliating to think that the entire debacle of him fleeing for his life had been watched and judged by mysterious and powerful backers. Yet more than that, the revelation that the actions of a small-timer like him had created an effect in some kind of grand scheme against Superman of all people was overwhelming. All of these mixed feelings sloshed together, enchanting his tongue to eloquently weave his stray thoughts together into a beautiful tapestry of words. "Ack-… hurb-… ffhlurp-…"

The lady took one look at him, as his dumbstruck expression, and for a moment mirth broke through the air of controlled precision she wrapped around herself. The faintest of giggles slipped through her lips until she brought one hand up in a demure gesture to cover it. "My apologies Mr Silver, I sometimes forget that you're still very new in the world of crime. This must all seem a bit too much to take in at once." She turned away from the window. "Come, follow me. As I said I have a reward for you, but it shall require a little context that would be best explained over a glass of wine."

She began to stride away, then suddenly halted. "Oh my! How rude of me! I completely forgot." She looked back over her shoulder, shooting him a coy smile that sent a pleasurable tingle racing down his arms. "I never did introduce myself, did I? You may call me Miss Medea."

"N- Nice to meet you. I'm Tio." Tio stammered in reply.

Miss Medea winked cheekily at him. "Yes, I know."


A few minutes later, Tio found himself reclining into one of the softest, most plush sofas he'd ever sat in. The lounge followed the same smokey-white colour scheme and dim lighting convention as the rest of the apartment, though something about the large, low table that dominated the centre of the room made this place feel more formal and business-like. He had the distinct impression that many important conversations had taken place across this very table, and that many powerful people may have sat in the exact sofa he was now.

"Now, what to drink?" Medea mused as she busied herself around a bar counter tucked away in the corner of the room. She pulled a red bottle out of a wine rack, blew a layer of dust off it, and gave an approving nod at what she read beneath. "Vosne-Romanée. This will do nicely." She plucked a pair of wine glasses from the counter, poured a generous helping into each, and then sashayed over to a sofa on the other side of the table, setting one of the glasses down in front of him as she passed. She sat down in an elegant motion, and raised her glass in the silent gesture of cheers.

Tio picked up the glass awkwardly. He'd tasted a little bit of cheap wine before, but had found beers and ciders to be more to his taste. Then again, he was almost certain that the wine in front of him had a price tag far beyond his budget. He raised the glass, puckering his lips as he prepared to take a taste…

"Ah, ah, ah. Hold on now." Medea interrupted, stopping him with nought but a few words and a raised finger. There was a slight tinge of reprimand to her expression, as if he'd failed some unknown test, and her voice took on a vaguely lecturing tone. "This is a fine wine we're drinking here, Mr Silver. There is an art to these things. "She raised her glass to her face, but rather than drinking brought it to her nose and swirled it slightly. "First we swirl it, to let the oxygen mix with the wine and release its aroma. Taste and smell are two very closely linked senses. Take a moment to pick out the various notes."

Hesitantly, Tio copied her. It smelt like… well, like wine to him. Just wine. He didn't have much to compare it to, so was unsure what all the notes he was supposed to be picking up on were meant to smell like. Still it was clear that Medea had absolute control in this situation, so he obediently followed her lead.

"Now we take a sip." Medea instructed, bringing her glass down and taking a long, slow sip of her wine. It was a weirdly seductive sight, but Tio got the impression she was emphasising that point deliberately to him, as if it was all another part of her impromptu lecture. "Let the wine run underneath your tongue: that's where the most sensitive taste buds are."

Tio did as she said, holding the wine under his tongue for a few seconds and closing his eyes as he tried to pick apart the range of unfamiliar tastes. There was a sharpness to this wine he didn't remember the cheap stuff possessing, but it was counterbalanced by a fruity streak that prevented it from becoming unpleasant. Something about the taste made the word "rich" come to mind, but that was probably an assumption he was making because he knew that the wine must be expensive already. "You know a lot about wines." He said as the last drops ran down his throat.

Medea smirked wryly at him. "Wine is a weapon to me: another tool of my trade that I have spent years mastering, and far more reliable than any gun or knife." She held her glass up to the chandelier above them, admiring the colour through the dimmed light. "There is a culture surrounding wine: a suggestion of class, of refinement, that is all too easy to exploit. One who can demonstrate a great knowledge of the intricacies of wine can convince others that they are of nobility, or perhaps of high-brow education, which creates the impression that they also possess a level of sophistication and wisdom." She brought the glass to her lips again and took another sip, closing her eyes and taking a long time to savour it again before speaking. "There are also other practical benefits. Taking a drink mid-conversation is a perfectly acceptable thing to do, and can buy you the precious few seconds you need to think of just the right words to say. Offering wine to your conversation partner can lower their inhibitions, making them more receptive to your suggestions and points of view. And of course many wines are incredibly expensive, but can be sold all across the world at fairly consistent prices. A $10,000 bottle of wine is a far easier thing to sneak through a city undetected than a briefcase full of cash."

Tio took another sip of his wine, more to hide his own nervous gulp than anything else. "Just what kind of job do you have that requires such skills?"

A light smile flitted across Medea's lips. "I am a criminal. Like you."

"I'm not a criminal!"

Medea cocked an eyebrow at him. "No? Funny, I could have sworn I saw camera footage of you robbing a bank earlier today. Did I imagine that?"

"I-… I was desperate!" Tio protested meekly. "I never intended to hurt anyone."

"Most criminals are born of desperation." Medea countered. "Very start out wanting to hurt someone. They either develop a taste for it as they go, or learn how to harden their heart to violence in order to sleep at night. You get the odd madmen of course, and the media does so love to shine a spotlight on those ones and tar us all with the same brush, but make no mistake: they are the minority. Most simply find themselves at a crossroads where they must choose between bowing their head beneath the crushing weight of society, or breaking its laws in the hope of finding a different fate, and making the same choice you did." She took another sip of wine, her gaze never breaking once from his eyes as she did. "Once the choice is made, there is no going back. Time cannot be rewritten. You have broken the law, just as I have, and are now a criminal. You can turn yourself in if you wish, serve your sentence, let the stain of it upon your CV burn your prospects at a better job forevermore, but that will not erase the past. You are one of us."

A hard lump of dread formed in Tio's stomach as he considered her words, causing him to hunch in on himself. Medea wasn't wrong about there being a stigma around employing ex-convicts, and even before that Tio didn't think he could handle going to prison! Yet he'd taken that risk despite knowing the consequences because the burden of trying to make a living in a way that followed the letter of the law had been too much. He'd been drowning in poverty, uncertainty and despair, and had only found hope in the honeyed lies of someone he knew was a criminal. "… I never wanted to hurt anyone…" His words came out as little more than a despondent whisper.

"I understand." Medea replied, a hint of sympathy in her eyes. "Believe it or not, we aren't so different in that regard. I've been in this business for decades, but I have yet to ever point a gun at someone, or even raise a fist in anger. There are ways for one to make a living in the underworld without needing to ever resort to violence, provided they have other useful talents they can leverage in its place. I possess one such set of talents." The corner of her mouth twitched up into a slight smirk. "And I have a suspicion that, with a little training, you may find that you do as well."

Tio looked up at her in confusion, which morphed into astonishment as he pieced together what she was saying. "Wait, are you offering me a job?"

Medea grinned. "I did say I brought you here to reward you. Truth be told I was rather impressed by your performance in your heist, and not just because you helped my deal be completed. You showed promise in the sort of skills the organisation that I work for prizes."

Promise? Him? Tio didn't think he'd ever heard those words come out of anyone's mouth but his mother's. "I don't understand. I ran away."

"From a man who can shrug off bullets, punch through buildings, and shoot laser beams out of his baby blue eyes." Medea countered. "I've seen pictures of him literally juggling train carriages. Any ordinary human who even considers trying to fight Superman directly is an idiot. People say running is the coward's choice, but the wise know that only applies in the context of a fight you can win. If we were looking for dumb muscle to throw at a wall we'd go to a butchers. Someone humble enough to recognise when they're outmatched and flee is far preferable." She took another sip, giving him a critical glance over as she did. "Though admittedly you could do with a little more confidence in yourself. Luckily it's easier to build confidence up than it is to break arrogance down."

"But what about when Superman caught me?" Tio pressed, genuinely disbelieving that anyone could consider that successful. "I thought I made a complete idiot of myself?"

An ungraceful snort of laughter slipped out of Medea, and she quickly covered her mouth with her hand in an attempt to stifle her sudden onset of giggles. "Oh, you did." She managed to answer between breaths. "And that will remain one of the funniest things I have ever seen."

Tio looked down at his feet, his face hot with embarrassment.

"And yet despite the absurdity of it, it worked." Medea continued, finally regaining control over her laughter. Her eyes still sparkled with amusement however. "You did something that few among even the most hardened supervillains can claim: you repelled Superman. And as the saying goes: if it's stupid but it works, it isn't stupid." She set her wine glass down and leaned a little closer over the table. "And you did it by using something that even the mighty Superman is defenceless against: emotions! You made him so awkward to be near you that he ran away! Now you may find it embarrassing, but it was at that moment that I saw a spark of potential in you. There are few who can so intuitively grasp how to elicit an emotional reaction from others, nor find the right words under pressure. I believe you may have what people might call a "silver tongue" underneath that self-doubt Mr Silver. Perhaps not in the roguishly charming way portrayed in the movies, but in the ability to convince and deceive smoothly when backed against the wall. With training and experience we can bring that silver tongue out, and sharpen it into a fine blade with which to carve a path through the criminal world."

He would have been lying if he said that it wasn't a little flattering to have someone tell him he was talented. It was amazing how a little bit of praise actually went a long way to making him change his mind. What if he really was talented? Maybe he could actually earn enough money to live in an expensive apartment like this as well? And if he was the type of criminal that never hurt anyone that was morally acceptable, right?

Still he wasn't quite convinced yet. He still didn't know exactly what it was signing up for. "You keep saying 'we.' Who exactly do you work for? And what is it that you actually do?"

Medea leaned back in her seat, a satisfied smile crossing her lips. "That is something that requires a little bit of a story. One set here in Gotham in fact." She picked up her wine glass again and took a longer drink, silently prompting Tio to do the same. When she had finished, her expression had taken on a vaguely far away look, and when she spoke again it was in the melodic tone of a story-teller.

"Once upon a time, before a man dressed as a bat began changing the rules of the game, Gotham City spent decades under the rules of organised crime families: The Falcone Family from Italy, The Dimitrov's from Russia, The Neon Dragon Triad from China; the list goes on and on. Now your average crime family follows a simple organisational structure not too different from the old mediaeval feudal system. The boss sits at the top of the hierarchy and passes orders down to a number of trusted captains, called capos. Those capos in turn delegate tasks to a number of soldiers that they are responsible for managing; and those soldiers go out and run protection rackets or other criminal activities that squeeze money out of the ordinary people living in their territory. This simple pyramid structure allows orders from the boss to flow down quickly, and money to flow back up quickly." Her eyes narrowed. "However there is a flaw. In order for this structure to run smoothly, both the boss and the family in general must possess a reputation."

Tio gulped nervously. "For violence?"

"For strength." Medea corrected. "A civilian pays their protection money and dares not breathe a word to the police if they believe that a crime family is strong. Strong enough to make them suffer if they show defiance. The family in turn follows their boss because they trust that he is strong enough to provide them with what they want, and to punish them should they misbehave. But when a family loses that reputation the simple structure it is built on quickly falters, like an engine running out of oil. The civilians start fighting back, stalling for time or turning to the cops; the soldiers start taking cuts of the money for themselves or selling out to rival families; and the more ambitious capos start to wonder if they couldn't do a better job of being the boss. Everything falls apart the moment that people stop believing that the person above them is strong enough to keep them in line."

Suddenly Medea tilted her head to the side curiously. "Do you know why World War One started?" She asked.

Thrown by the suddenness of the question, it took Tio a little longer than he'd have liked to recall the answer. "Umm… it was because of the assassination of an archduke, wasn't it?"

Medea frowned. "In a sense. The assassination of Archduke Ferdinand was the spark that set the war off, but it wasn't the underlying reason why the entire world erupted into conflict. No, the real reason was because the years before that event had been marked by many of the world's biggest countries building up their militaries, pushing out at their neighbour's borders, and generally trying to make a show of dominance over each other. They had become so flush with wealth and power that their own territories were starting to feel a little too small, and some were getting ideas of expanding their influence out a bit further through force. The assassination was the excuse some of those people needed to declare war on their neighbours, and then suddenly old pacts were called upon, new alliances were made, and one by one every country that was able to fight got dragged into one of the bloodiest conflicts the world has ever known." Her gaze regarded him coolly. "You should pay more attention in history classes. There are a great many lessons to be learned from such events."

Tio was confused. "Sorry, but what does this have to do with crime families?"

"Because history repeats itself in unexpected ways Mr Silver, and once upon a time a similar event happened here in Gotham City." Medea answered. "Gotham had fallen so deeply into the corruption, the crime families had gotten so powerful, that they were all beginning to strain at their borders. They were flush with more men and money than they could ever need, and the young stars rising through the ranks eyed their neighbouring gang's territory hungrily. It was a powder keg just waiting to explode, and in the end the spark that set it all off was a simple bar fight between the ground-level thugs of two big families." Medea took another cigarette from her pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. "I don't actually know who lost the fight, or which family they worked for. Nobody kept a record of such a thing in those days. What I do know is that the family of the loser, knowing they had to make a show of strength to save their reputation, sent some men round to break the winner's kneecaps the following night. The winner's family had to save face as well by retaliating even harder, and suddenly the two families were at each other's throats. Old favours were called in, new alliances were made, and suddenly a gang war that enveloped the entire city broke out across Gotham. Sewer workers reported that at night the water literally turned pink with blood, and police had to search the harbours every morning for bodies dumped in them. It was a genuine war on the streets, and every gang paid a high price in blood."

"Now you may assume that the bosses were safe and secure, holed up in their fortresses and counting blood money whilst their soldiers died for them, but that wasn't the case. This wasn't a war being fought against a country thousands of miles away: it was fought between buildings only a short walk away from each other, and everyone knew that the most efficient way to take down a rival gang was to cut the head off the snake. The bosses were the prime targets, and there was no geneva convention between criminals to limit the ways to get to them. Every day the bosses had to worry if perhaps one of their capos had been bought out and was about to shoot them in the back of the head; if a tommy gun was about to pop out of the car driving by them and mow down in the street; if they were about to get a phone call from school telling them that their child had gone missing. I'm not exaggerating: those things did happen, and often. It was an awful time." Medea breathed out a plume of smoke. "And yet reputation forced them to keep fighting. They needed to be seen as a strong, confident warrior who had no doubt that they could lead their family to victory. If any of the bosses made an attempt to initiate peace it would be seen as a sign of weakness, and their gang would soon crumble beneath them. Those few who'd stopped giving a damn and tried to set up meetings with other bosses were ignored, for their rivals feared it was a trick designed to lure them into an ambush. Put yourself in their shoes Mr Silver. Imagine that you were one such boss who desperately wished for the fighting to end, but knew that if you breathed a word about it outside of the strictest confidence, your soldiers would jump ship in a heartbeat. What would you do?"

That… was a difficult question, and one that Tio didn't know the answer to. He busied himself taking a deep gulp of wine as his mind raced to think up an answer. Medea had sounded remarkably like a teacher during her lecture, and Tio couldn't help but think she'd hidden an answer in there somewhere, but where? She had likened the situation to World War One, so how were wars between nations resolved?

"They'd need a diplomat!" He realised with a start. "Someone they could secretly send out on their behalf to broker peace with their enemies! That way they could stay safe and keep their reputations intact, but still try to negotiate peace behind the scenes!"

Medea nodded, and fixed him with a pleased smile. "Very good Mr Silver. That is absolutely correct. Within mafia families there is a position called the Consigliere, which is Italian for advisor or counsellor. They are a trusted friend and confidant of the boss; their right-hand man so to speak, given no direct command over soldiers but granted the authority to act in the bosses name. Their task is to help the boss to manage their various duties and offer counsel on important decisions, like a prime minister would for a mediaeval king. As their roles were outside of the pyramid organisational structure their deaths would do little to hinder a family besides pissing off the boss, making them surprisingly low value targets, yet being trusted to speak and act on their boss's behalf gave them the ability to arrange treaties. While the bosses waged war, their consigliere met in secret behind closed doors and made peace."

"Soon the gang war reached its bloodiest moment, where every gang was losing far more than they could ever hope to gain. The consiglieres of every family met together at a summit to discuss how they were going to get their respective bosses to sign a peace treaty. These men were given their positions for their wisdom, and knew that reputation and a lack of trust were the real enemy keeping them apart, but through discussion they came up with a solution. They would each take a cut of their family's wealth and pool it together to create a third-party: a truly neutral organisation that had no soldiers to betray them, claimed no territory to maintain, and had no allegiance to any one gang over another. This organisation would be the peacekeepers of the underworld: their own little version of the United Nations for the feuding mafia families. If a neutral third party was the one organising the meetings then none of the bosses needed to fear it was a trap, and they could all save face in front of their men by claiming that they hadn't been the ones who had been seeking peace, but had graciously accepted peace offered to them from another party, in exchange for a number of generous concessions. Essentially by creating a new gang designed to bear the role of offering peace, every boss could come out of negotiations appearing to have won." Medea smirked. "And the idea worked perfectly. A treaty was hashed out, every boss got to cease the fighting without appearing to be a loser, and the bloodiest gang war of the century came to a swift end."

And here was Medea, a self-professed criminal who made it very clear that she was involved in some sort of diplomatic job, sitting in an obviously expensive apartment. Tio had a pretty good idea of where this story was going now. "I'm guessing this new gang didn't just fall apart though?"

"No." Medea grinned wolfishly. "The consiglieres had seen the benefits of having a neutral ground to discuss matters peacefully, and refused to allow a war like the one they'd just come out of to happen again. The funds kept coming, and the organisation continued to play the peacekeepers whenever new incidents appeared. They weren't always successful, and every diplomat knows that peace isn't always an option, but they were good enough to garner a lot of respect among the mafia families. In time the original consiglieres passed away, new staff independent from any family were hired in their place, and the organisation truly became its own entity: keeping the name of The Consiglieres in honour of the men who founded it. We grew wealthy enough to expand out of Gotham and into many other cities, and as the old families fell and street gangs rose in their place we adapted, offering our services as trusted diplomats to anyone in the underworld who could afford it: assassins, dirty politicians, arms dealers; our list of clientele grew extensively."

Tio had never considered that criminals would need diplomats, nor did he imagine that most people would ever expect them to, but when explained like this he could see how useful they would be. It was equal parts exciting and terrifying to think that secret organisations like this really existed in the world! It was like something out of a spy film. "Do you deal with supervillains too?" He asked.

Medea winced, and Tio got the sudden feeling that he'd said something he shouldn't have. "We… well we do, yes." Medea said hesitantly. "But to be honest, we dropped the ball on that one. When the first generation of masked vigilantes and melodramatically named criminals started cropping up in the news we dismissed them as a fad. We underestimated them, truth be told, and didn't realise they'd have such an impact on the underworld until it was too late." She took a noticeable deeper drag of her cigarette, and huffed the smoke out with a tinge of annoyance. "Suddenly half of our clients were wiped out or taken over by these weird metahumans overnight, and our income took a big hit. Some of our offices had to close, and we retreated for a while to lick our wounds and try to get a better idea of how the lay of the land was changing. While the status quo is by no means any less dynamic now, and more of these supervillains keep crawling out of the woodwork left and right, we've at least figured out the new methods needed to deal with them. That's part of the reason why I'm looking to recruit you Mr Silver. The Consiglieres are making a comeback after a decade of hiding, regaining our former influence, but we aren't blind to the fact that many of the older members like myself are still holding onto beliefs and preconceptions that belong in the past. We're looking for young blood like yourself, with fresh talent and ideas, to build The Consiglieres back up to what we used to be." She winked at him. "And of course we'll pay well. Very well. Your money troubles will be a thing of the past."

"I-... well-..." Tio wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand the thought of being in the same room as a bunch of supervillains was a terrifying thought. He was supposed to be responsible for talking crime lords and crazies out of killing each other? Sit down with hardened mobsters and tell them why they should all play nice? The thought would have been laughable, if his life wouldn't be in constant danger!

But on the other hand he was desperate. He had no money, no connections, and no prospects of a decent future with the debts he'd inherited hanging over his head. This was likely the only chance he'd ever get to escape a life of poverty and misery. Was it better to have a dangerous job but a good life, or a dead-end job and a miserable life? He didn't know.

"... If I was to accept, and I'm not saying I am, then how would this work?" Tio asked. "What would I be expected to do?"

There was an odd flicker of satisfaction in Medea's eyes, and Tio had the strangest feeling that, like an unsuspecting fish taking a bite of a morsel, he'd just swallowed the hook. "In the beginning you'd be a trainee. I appreciate that you're still in school at the moment, and for the sake of keeping a cover you'll need to keep attending, but outside of school hours you'll be learning the tricks of the trade from me. On weekdays I'll be sending you required reading and other tasks to sharpen your understanding of how a good diplomat works. On the weekends I'd then expect you to commute to Gotham, where you'll be learning directly from me. If I have clients, you'll shadow me to get a feel for how our business works. If not, I'll teach you more tricks of our trade. When I believe you're ready I'll give you a job of your own to complete, with me there for support just in case anything goes wrong. Complete it and you'll become a full member of The Consiglieres, and then will be given an office in a city to run. Probably Gateway City, since you already live there and the man in charge at the moment is planning to retire in a few months."

Tio grimaced. "And then I'll be expected to deal with supervillains alone?"

"You'll never be alone." Medea assured. "Myself and other consiglieres will always be just a phone call away. And you won't be dealing with all the supervillains, just the reasonable ones."

"Reasonable?"

Medea sighed. "Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. Civilised, I should say? No… orderly! We appreciate that some people simply aren't interested in peace, and those sorts we go to great lengths to keep ourselves hidden from. To use Gotham as an example again, we have quite strong ties with The Penguin, as he understands the importance of order and generally desires a peaceful environment to continue conducting his business in. We also frequently talk with the assassin Deadshot, who again simply desires to ply his trade without rocking the boat too far. Criminals who treat their work like a job and can appreciate the need for peace are our preferred clients. Killer Croc, however, is not someone who would appreciate the delicacy of the services we offer, and so we have no reason to reach out to him. And the Joker…" Medea froze, a faraway look in her eye. "... We made that mistake once. We never will again. He is a man who craves chaos, and would love nothing more than to see the streets awash with blood. Him, and all others like him, are blacklisted from our services." She took another long drag on her cigarette, tapping the tip on against an ashtray afterwards and blowing out a long plume of smoke. "We have a rule about neutrality in order to conduct our business effectively. We take no sides in disputes, and allow weapons or violence in the meetings we arrange. Anyone who breaks those rules is banned from the use of our services for good, and for many that means it becomes far more difficult to ever collaborate with other groups in the underworld again. We have had a few individuals who've broken that rule in the past, but they're few and far between. As criminal jobs go ours is definitely among the least hazardous.

That actually made Tio feel a little better, which in reflection was probably a bit naive. His biggest worry was having to step into a room with the insane types like the Joker that would murder him on a whim because they thought it was funny. If he was only going to deal with the ones that understand there was no point in killing the negotiator, he could at least feel a bit safer. Sure their business was just as deadly, but it wasn't like he was actually a part of that business. He'd just be a… facilitator of sorts. An accessory at best, and only in the faintest sense. He wouldn't be responsible for whatever they ended up doing.

Perhaps reading from his expression that he was coming around to the idea, Medea pressed her point. "Typically we begin with a little taster day, just to scout out the talent a potential recruit has and make sure they understand what sort of job they're signing up for. As it happens I have a meeting tomorrow morning between a local villain and a small gang over a contract negotiation that would be perfect to whet your teeth on. Why not join me and get a feel for how we do business?"

A taster? Well that couldn't be too bad, could it? Tio would be lying if he said the job didn't at least sound interesting, and what harm could there be in giving it a try?

"Okay." Tio agreed, offering a hand. "I'm happy to give it a go."

Medea's smile took on a sharp, almost wicked edge as she reached out to shake his hand. "Wonderful." She replied. "I'll show you to your room for tonight, and tomorrow morning we'll get you sorted out with a nice suit, compliments of our organisation of course. Then tomorrow you'll get to see what being a consigliere is all about."