Nolan took another sip from the absurdly fruity cocktail one of the hotel staff had prepared for him and watched Dre finish his report. The drink was almost offensively sweet, packed with enough citrus and berries to make Nolan wonder whether someone in the kitchen had been trying to poison him in a much more pleasant fashion.
He had been listening carefully, however. The taste of the drink was the least important thing in the room.
"So that's what happened," Nolan said when Dre finally finished. He lowered the glass and considered him for a moment. "Okay. I told you that you would handle Brickwell, but now you've got the Star City police and the Arrow team on high alert."
Dre nodded.
"They don't deal with mass casualties like this," Nolan continued. "To us, it was a skirmish. We hit one of Brickwell's positions, killed some of his people, wounded him, and walked away. That's business in our world." His expression hardened. "To them, we just did the unthinkable. They're going to throw everything they have at figuring out who was responsible."
"I understand."
"Good. Because what I need from you now is simple. Lock everything down."
Dre didn't hesitate. "Already done. I gave the order before I came here."
Nolan's shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Good."
He picked up his phone from the table and began scrolling through the messages that had accumulated while he'd been dealing with the fallout. His attention moved from one email to another, his expression changing only slightly as he processed each piece of information.
Dre remained where he was on the laptop.
After a moment, he sighed.
"I guess Brickwell and I are at a standstill now."
There was disappointment buried beneath the words, subtle but unmistakable. Nolan looked up from his phone.
"Not exactly."
Dre raised an eyebrow.
"I said you can't launch another loud or resource-heavy attack," Nolan explained. "That's different from telling you to stop hunting him."
Dre's expression brightened slightly.
"You shot him, right?"
"Yeah."
"Three times?"
Dre nodded. "Tough bastard took them without much trouble."
Nolan laughed quietly and returned his attention to his phone.
"Well, even a tough bastard has to get those bullets removed from his skin eventually."
Dre grinned.
"And he's going to have to get those wounds stitched."
"Exactly." Nolan took another drink. "Let him hide. You don't need to look for a base Dre. Look for his doctor."
Dre considered that before nodding.
"Understood."
"Good. Now get out of here before you become another problem I have to solve."
Dre chuckled and tapped on his laptop screen "Enjoy your little fruit drink, boss."
Nolan glanced down at the glass.
"It's actually pretty good."
Dre shook his head as he disconnected.
Nolan waited until the screen blinked before his smile faded. The situation with Brickwell was irritating, but it wasn't what concerned him most. The police would investigate. The Arrow team would investigate. Eventually someone would notice the pattern, and eventually someone would start pulling at threads.
That was why the operation had to go quiet.
Nolan leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
For now, the Underpass would disappear.
And Kieran would take the stage.
***
Kieran inspected himself in the mirror one final time.
The reflection looking back at him was immaculate.
His suit had been tailored specifically for the evening, every seam sitting exactly where it was supposed to. His cufflinks caught the light whenever he moved, and the watch around his wrist was so extravagant that it bordered on ridiculous. Kieran rather liked that about it.
He adjusted his tie, studied his reflection for another moment, and finally smiled.
There he was.
The smile was effortless.
Nolan's had always required thought.
Kieran's simply existed.
He checked his watch and stepped away from the mirror, retrieving his jacket from the back of the chair. A few minutes later, he entered the elevator and descended toward the underground garage.
The doors opened onto polished concrete and rows of waiting vehicles.
His driver was already standing beside the black SUV.
"Evening, Mr. Everleigh."
"Evening."
Kieran climbed into the rear seat, and the door closed behind him. The SUV pulled away almost immediately, followed by two additional vehicles carrying security personnel.
The convoy emerged onto the streets of Gotham and disappeared into the evening traffic.
Kieran settled comfortably into the leather seat and looked out through the tinted window.
Tonight was supposed to be about charity. And in some ways he supposed it really was.
Bruce was going to be charitable and tell him why he's being such a prick.
****
The Gotham Children's Restoration Gala occupied the upper floors of one of the city's oldest luxury hotels, the ballroom transformed for the evening beneath enormous chandeliers and arrangements of white flowers. Wealthy donors moved through the room in tailored suits and elegant evening gowns, champagne glasses drifting between conversations while photographers captured carefully constructed smiles for the newspapers waiting outside.
Kieran entered without fanfare, though he hardly needed one. His arrival still drew attention. Several donors greeted him as he crossed the ballroom, eager to congratulate him on the Continental's continued expansion, while others simply watched with the curiosity reserved for someone whose name had begun appearing alongside Gotham's wealthiest families.
He returned every greeting with effortless charm, offering just enough conversation to make each person feel important without allowing any discussion to last long enough to become tedious. It was easy. This was Kieran's world.
Then he saw Bruce Wayne standing near the far side of the ballroom.
For several seconds, Kieran watched him from across the room. Bruce appeared perfectly comfortable among Gotham's elite, dressed in an immaculate tuxedo and surrounded by precisely the sort of people who would never suspect the man standing among them spent his nights hunting criminals across rooftops.
Their eyes met.
Bruce gave him the faintest nod.
Kieran smiled and made his way across the ballroom.
"Bruce," he said warmly when he reached him.
"Kieran."
They shook hands for the benefit of anyone watching, both men wearing the pleasant expressions expected of wealthy acquaintances meeting at a charity event. Kieran glanced around the ballroom before looking back at him.
"Quite an evening. I have to admit, Bruce, you people certainly know how to throw a party when there's a good cause attached to it."
Bruce's mouth curved into the faintest smile. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."
"I am. Though I suspect you didn't invite me here simply because you wanted another donor."
Bruce's eyes remained on him for a moment before he answered. "Perhaps we should talk somewhere quieter."
Kieran's smile widened.
"Lead the way."
They left the ballroom together, passing through a set of ornate doors and into a quieter corridor where the music became little more than a distant murmur. Bruce continued toward a large window overlooking Gotham, while Kieran followed at an easy pace, taking in the view of the city below.
Once they were alone, Bruce stopped.
Kieran joined him beside the window and slipped his hands into his pockets. For a moment neither man spoke, though the silence between them felt considerably different from the pleasant quiet of the ballroom.
Kieran eventually broke it with a quiet laugh.
"I have to admit, Bruce, I'm impressed."
Bruce glanced toward him. "With what?"
"Your money."
There was the slightest pause.
Kieran continued before Bruce could answer, his tone almost complimentary. "Most men with your resources use them to buy things they want. Properties, companies, political influence, whatever happens to catch their attention that particular year. You've decided to use yours to make my life considerably more difficult instead."
Bruce's expression remained neutral.
"I don't know what you're referring to."
Kieran laughed softly. "Of course you don't."
He turned toward the window, looking down at the city while he continued. "You've been applying pressure to my suppliers and competing with me for properties that I have an interest in acquiring. Several contractors who were perfectly happy to work with the Continental suddenly discovered that Wayne Industries had developed an interest in their business. A few lending institutions have also become remarkably cautious whenever my companies walk through their doors."
He glanced sideways at Bruce, an amused smile touching his lips.
"It's clever, Bruce. I mean that sincerely."
Bruce watched him carefully. "You don't seem particularly concerned."
"Concerned?" Kieran chuckled. "No. Irritated, perhaps, but not concerned. Honestly, I'm impressed that you've managed to put that much pressure on the network without making the entire thing obvious."
He leaned against the window frame, his expression becoming more thoughtful.
"You're not trying to beat me financially. You know that's a losing proposition I don't survive off financials. You're trying to make me uncomfortable enough that I eventually make a mistake. If I become desperate, I'll move too quickly. I'll pressure the wrong person, make an unnecessary payment, trust someone I shouldn't, or leave evidence behind that you can follow."
Bruce's silence was answer enough.
Kieran smiled.
"And the frustrating part is that it might actually work."
Bruce finally turned toward him fully. "Then perhaps you should reconsider what you're doing."
"Perhaps."
Kieran gave a small shrug, completely unbothered.
"But that's what makes this interesting. You're forcing me to reconsider some of my assumptions, and I don't dislike that. In fact, I rather enjoy it. Most people who come after me are either too stupid to understand what they're fighting or too frightened to do anything meaningful once they realize how complicated the situation is."
He looked directly at Bruce.
"You're doing neither."
The smile returned to Kieran's face, warmer this time but no less calculating.
"You've got resources, patience, and enough information to make me uncomfortable without ever putting your fingerprints directly on anything. That's a difficult combination to deal with."
Bruce studied him.
Kieran gave a quiet laugh.
"I was beginning to wonder when you'd finally decide to stop watching from the sidelines and start playing the game."
The two men stood in silence for a moment, Gotham's lights stretching endlessly beneath them.
Bruce's expression hardened.
"You may find that the game has changed."
Kieran's smile never disappeared.
"I certainly hope so."
He pushed away from the window and adjusted his cufflink before glancing back toward the ballroom.
"Because if we're going to do this, Bruce, I'd hate for either of us to be disappointed."
Kieran studied Bruce for a second longer a smirk filled out his lips, "You know Ra's and I had an enlightening conversation the other day. He's in town you know, maybe Talia's with him?" He patted Bruce on the shoulder, "I have ways to get more resources Bruce don't make a mistake."