Detective James Gordon, one of the few honest men left in Gotham, ultimately chose to hire Lance as the prosecutor to bring Jonathan Crane to justice.
In Gordon's own words, "No matter what method you use, whether you send that bastard to Blackgate Penitentiary or lock him in a mental institution, the only thing that matters is this. He must not fall into the hands of those so-called big shots."
Lance accepted the commission without hesitation.
There was, however, a small complication. The two ran into trouble when it came time to pay the deposit.
The quote Lance provided was simply too high, far beyond Gordon's expectations.
"Four million. Four million dollars!" Gordon gestured wildly. "Do you have any idea what four million means? That money could fund three police stations in the East End. You damn hyena, have you lost your mind?"
"Calm down, calm down." Lance covered his ears, entirely used to this reaction.
His rates had always been among the highest in the industry.
In his previous life, clients had often complained about his prices, but in the end, they always paid.
After arriving in this world, the people he dealt with were figures like Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark. They might have raised objections, but never to this extent.
To be honest, Gordon's reaction made him almost nostalgic for those earlier days of grinding through his career.
Of course, what he truly missed was watching his competitors struggle to keep up with him.
"I can't pay the deposit right now." Gordon slumped back onto the sofa, deflated. "I could apply for funds from the department, but there's no way they'd approve a quote like yours."
"That's not my problem." Lance spread his hands with a casual shrug.
"Alternatively, you could consider my other suggestion and go ask your good friend, Batman."
"You..." Gordon's eyes widened as he stared at Lance. "What exactly are you implying?"
"Exactly what it sounds like, Detective." Lance smiled faintly. He raised a finger to his lips in a quiet gesture.
"I have my own sources of information."
"You..." Gordon started to speak, then stopped himself. The words reached his lips but never came out.
Lance could tell that Gordon had likely already formed a suspicion about Batman's true identity. He just had not confirmed it directly.
It made sense. Bruce Wayne's parents had died in that alley in Gotham, and the police had never given him an answer all these years.
Someone like Gordon, who still had a conscience, would understand Bruce Wayne's pain and anger. He would also understand that the vigilante known as Batman trusted no one in the police.
As a man with empathy, Gordon felt sympathy for the boy Bruce once was. But as a police officer, he instinctively rejected a masked vigilante operating outside the law.
Now, someone who clearly knew more about Batman had appeared in front of him. It would have been natural for Gordon to press further.
Even if he chose not to engage Lance directly, protocol alone would require him to question, probe, warn, or even silence him.
To Lance's surprise, Gordon forced those words back down.
He said nothing.
Lance raised an eyebrow but did not press the issue.
It had to be said, Batman's judgment was impeccable. In a police department as rotten as Gotham's, he had still managed to find someone reliable, someone with a conscience.
Of course, Lance was not the least bit envious.
After all, he had also found himself a loyal hound.
He glanced toward Waylana Jones on the other side of the room. She appeared to be busy washing something, but in reality, her attention was fixed on him. Sensing his gaze, she looked up and offered a harmless smile.
Lance, who had an inexplicable competitive streak in the strangest areas, felt satisfied that he had not lost in this regard and withdrew his gaze.
"Anyway," Gordon rubbed his face, "the deposit check will be a few days late. I need to... gather the money."
"No problem." Lance nodded. He assumed Gordon would discuss it with Batman. After all, Batman had been the one to recommend him. The delay suited Lance just fine.
He still intended to use this opportunity to lock Batman in as a long-term client. The ability he had obtained from him last time had been extremely useful, and Lance was more than willing to keep taking advantage of that.
Gordon stood and headed for the door.
"One more thing." He stopped at the doorway and turned back.
His gaze fell on Waylana Jones in the corner. He frowned slightly, as if trying to find the right way to describe her half-human, half-crocodile state, but in the end, he simply sighed.
"Is this kid... really alright?"
When Lance did not respond, Gordon shifted his attention to Waylana.
"Do you need help?"
Lance followed his gaze. Waylana's previously indifferent expression immediately turned into a smile. However, as her condition became more pronounced, the smile no longer resembled anything human. It looked more like a predator's warning before feeding.
Gordon frowned, clearly uncomfortable. Lance, on the other hand, showed no reaction.
"She's doing just fine here with me," Lance said. "Better than she would be on the streets of Gotham."
Gordon nodded, said nothing further, and pushed the door open to leave.
Once the door closed, Waylana spoke in a low voice.
"That detective... is he a good person?"
Lance walked over to the window and watched Gordon's figure disappear into the rain at the end of the alley.
"In Gotham, there are no truly good people," he said. "But James Gordon... is one of the few who still believes the law can solve anything."
Waylana nodded, only half understanding.
"I'll go cook, sir," she said. "What would you like for dinner?"
"Anything." Lance made a pained expression and covered his face.
"But promise me one thing. Under no circumstances are you allowed to serve live rats or any other creatures on my table. What I need is food. Proper, cooked, edible food."
"Understood, sir." Waylana scratched her head and turned toward the kitchen.
"By the way," Lance called after her, "make three portions. If I'm not mistaken, we'll have another guest tonight."
Waylana paused and looked back.
"A new visitor?"
After receiving Lance's confirmation, she fell silent for a moment before asking,
"What kind of person is this visitor?"
"A poor soul," Lance replied.
"Just a ghost trapped in the past."
___
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