A small brass bell chimed above the door as Kieran stepped inside, announcing the arrival of a new customer to a room that seemed to have forgotten what customer service was supposed to look like. No one appeared to greet him. For several seconds, the only sounds were the distant hum of an old ceiling fan and the faint metallic clank of something being moved in the back.
The building had probably been standing longer than most of the surrounding neighborhood. The gym sat in Suicide Slum, where old brick buildings and weather-beaten storefronts were common enough that nobody bothered looking twice at them anymore. The place wasn't beautiful by any conventional definition. The front windows were cloudy with age, the paint around the door had begun to peel, and the sign above the entrance had clearly survived several decades without anyone deciding it needed replacing. Yet compared to some of the buildings surrounding it, the gym was practically respectable. More importantly, it had character.
Kieran took another slow look around, appreciating the faded photographs covering the walls, the rows of battered exercise equipment, and the heavy punching bags hanging from reinforced beams. There was something honest about the place. It wasn't trying to be luxurious or modern. It existed because people came here to sweat, hurt, improve themselves, and occasionally get punched in the face.
An older man eventually emerged from a back room, wiping his hands on a rag. He stopped when he saw Kieran and studied him for a moment before his weathered face broke into recognition.
"Ah, you must be Everleigh."
"I am." Kieran smiled warmly and extended his hand. "And you must be Mr. Cortez."
The older man looked at the offered hand before clasping it firmly. His palm was rough and calloused, the sort of hand that told a story all by itself. Kieran suspected some of that had come from the gym, but the crooked nose and slightly flattened ears suggested that Abel Cortez had spent plenty of time getting hit before he ever started teaching other people how not to.
"Just call me Abel."
"Well, Abel, you can call me Kieran." Kieran released his hand and glanced around the gym again. "I heard you're looking to sell."
Abel nodded, his expression becoming a little more thoughtful. "Yeah. It's about that time. Kids have already moved out, and it's just me and the wife now. I've been running this place for longer than I care to admit, and lately I've realized I'm spending more time fixing things than actually enjoying my life."
"That tends to happen when a building gets old."
"You're telling me." Abel chuckled and gestured for Kieran to follow. "Come on. I'll show you around."
Kieran followed him through the gym as Abel pointed out the equipment, storage rooms, office, and various areas that would need attention. None of it was particularly surprising. The building needed work, and Kieran had expected that. There were cracks in the walls, some of the machines belonged in a museum, and the locker rooms looked like they had been renovated sometime during a presidency neither of them could remember.
Still, the foundation was solid.
"The roof doesn't leak anymore," Abel said defensively.
Kieran looked up.
"That's reassuring."
"I fixed it myself."
"Even more reassuring."
Abel laughed. "You don't have to pretend you like the place, Kieran. I know what it looks like."
"I do like it."
That stopped Abel for a moment.
Kieran gestured toward the battered heavy bag hanging near the center of the gym. "Places like this have something money can't buy. You can replace the equipment, repair the walls, repaint everything, but you can't manufacture history. People have spent years coming through those doors. Some of them probably learned how to fight here. Some probably learned how to defend themselves. Some probably came here because they had nowhere else to go."
Abel's expression softened.
"Yeah," he admitted. "That's what I'd miss."
They continued toward the locker rooms.
"There's one other thing you should know," Abel said. "The men's locker room could be bigger. There's a wall back there that can be knocked out. When I bought the place, I thought I'd expand it eventually, but I never had the money. Honestly, the wall was ugly enough that I put it up mostly because I didn't want to look at the empty space behind it."
Kieran raised an eyebrow.
"An entire unused section of the building?"
"Pretty much."
"Interesting."
Abel nodded. "If you're planning to expand, you've got options. You could knock the wall out and turn the whole area into another locker section, storage, whatever you want."
Kieran's smile remained pleasant, but his eyes lingered on the wall for a moment longer than necessary.
"I see."
There were already possibilities forming in his mind, though he kept them to himself. He hadn't come here simply because the property was inexpensive. He had chosen this place because it sat in precisely the sort of neighborhood where he wanted another foothold, and because a gym gave him something his hotels never could.
A place where people came to him without realizing they were doing so.
Kieran turned back toward Abel.
"I can confidently say I'm interested in purchasing the business."
Abel's face immediately brightened.
"Great!"
The excitement lasted only a moment before his expression changed. He looked almost embarrassed by the question that followed.
"But I gotta ask you something."
"Of course."
"You're not going to tear it down, are you?"
Kieran blinked.
Then he laughed.
"No, Abel. I wouldn't dream of it."
"You wouldn't?"
"I wouldn't buy a place with this much personality just to turn it into another sterile building with glass walls and a fancy sign." Kieran looked around the gym again. "I'll repair it. I'll replace some of the equipment, bring the place up to modern standards, make sure the building is safe, and probably give the locker rooms some attention. But this will remain a gym."
Abel stared at him.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
A broad smile spread across the old man's face.
"Then where do I sign?"
Kieran laughed as Abel immediately began leading him back toward the office.
"Now that's the spirit."
As they disappeared into the back room, Kieran glanced once more at the faded photographs lining the walls.
*****
"It's a nice building," Kieran remarked as he stared up through the car window at the towering structure of LexCorp. The fatigue in his voice was genuine; the paperwork to acquire rocks gym was monstrous, "Keep the car running."
"Yes, sir. Enjoy your dinner."
"I'll try," Kieran replied dryly as he stepped out of the vehicle.
Brock was immediately on his heels, as he always was these days, his broad frame following Kieran with a solemn vigilance. Kieran adjusted the front of his suit jacket before turning toward the entrance, offering the massive glass doors little more than a passing glance before stepping inside.
The interior of LexCorp was exactly what Kieran had expected and somehow more impressive than he anticipated. Everything was immaculate. The floors were polished to such a degree that the overhead lights reflected perfectly across their surface, while the walls were dominated by clean lines, glass, steel, and expensive artwork that looked as though it had been selected specifically to remind visitors that they were standing inside one of the most powerful corporations on Earth. There was nothing accidental about the building. Even the air seemed controlled.
Kieran found himself almost squinting at the place.
The Continental had wealth too, but its wealth was deliberately softened. It was meant to make people feel comfortable. LexCorp seemed designed to make people feel small.
"Good evening, Mr. Everleigh."
Kieran turned as a sharply dressed man approached him. He offered a polite smile and dipped his head.
"We've been expecting you. If you would please follow me."
"Of course."
The man turned toward a private elevator positioned along one of the walls. Kieran followed without question, Brock remaining several steps behind them. The elevator doors closed with a quiet hiss, sealing them inside a perfectly mirrored compartment.
Kieran studied his reflection for a moment.
He looked tired.
Not exhausted, exactly, but there was a heaviness behind his eyes that makeup and expensive clothing couldn't completely hide. He straightened his tie anyway, then glanced at Brock through the reflection.
"Do I look presentable?" He joked of course if he wanted to he could act perfectly fine but, sometimes appearing tired or not in top condition threw people off
Brock looked at him for a moment before shrugging. "You look like you always do, boss."
Kieran smiled.
"An absolutely useless answer."
The elevator chimed before Brock could respond, and the doors opened onto an entirely different atmosphere.
The dining floor was a stark contrast to the rest of LexCorp. The harsh modernity had been replaced by something warmer and considerably more traditional. Dark wood lined the walls, soft lighting illuminated the long dining table, and subtle gold accents gave the room an old-fashioned elegance that felt almost deliberately aristocratic. There were no glaring screens or enormous company logos here. It was a room designed for conversation, negotiation, and the kind of decisions that were better made without witnesses.
Kieran immediately understood why.
Several guests were already seated around the table, each accompanied by a glass of wine and each looking considerably more comfortable than Kieran felt. He recognized a few of them immediately. Others he knew only by reputation, which in Gotham and Metropolis could sometimes be more useful than knowing a person's face.
Then he saw Lex.
Luthor stood at the opposite end of the room, speaking with one of the other guests. He looked perfectly at ease, dressed in an immaculate suit with the sort of confidence that came from being accustomed to having entire rooms adjust themselves around him.
Kieran smiled.
There it was.
The real reason for the dinner.
This wasn't a gathering of businessmen who happened to know one another. It was a room full of men who had built empires, influenced governments, bought politicians, crushed competitors, and survived long enough to become powerful enough that other people had to consider their reactions before making decisions.
A room full of sharks.
And Kieran had just stepped into the water.
Rather than wait to be summoned, Kieran decided to make the first move. He walked toward Lex with his usual easy smile and extended his hand.
"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Luthor."
Lex's grin widened as he accepted the handshake.
"I feel like I told you, Lex is fine."
"Ah, I must have forgotten." Kieran chuckled. "In that case, you can call me Kieran."
"Deal."
Kieran glanced around the room before looking back at him. "I must say, you have a rather impressive building. Walking into the dining room after seeing the rest of the place, I almost thought I'd teleported somewhere else."
Lex laughed softly. "My architects worked hard on it."
"I can tell."
"Please, take a seat. We'll be starting shortly."
"Hm, I guess I will."
Kieran moved toward the table and selected his seat, Brock remaining farther back near the entrance rather than joining him. Almost immediately, a waiter appeared and poured Kieran a glass of wine before moving to serve the other guests.
Kieran lifted the glass and took a small sip.
Excellent.
Expensive.
He placed the glass down and casually surveyed the room again.
One man was speaking quietly with the gentleman beside him. Another was watching Lex. A third had already begun studying Kieran.
That one was particularly interesting.
Kieran met his gaze.
The man smiled.
Kieran smiled back.
Neither looked away.
Then Lex stepped toward the head of the table and lifted his glass.
"I'm glad all of you could take time out of your schedules to attend this little dinner," he said. "I know everyone here has considerably more important things demanding their attention, so I appreciate you making the effort."
Several guests raised their glasses.
"Please, relax. Enjoy yourselves. Dinner will be served shortly."
The glasses clinked around the table.
Kieran lifted his own, "To good company."
"To good company," Lex echoed.
Kieran took another sip and smiled brightly tonight was going to be a blast.